before?"

"Never," she answered. "I have heard him talk like that, though,
often. To me it sounds like the waves beating upon the shores. They
may rage as furiously, or ripple as softly as the tides can bring
them,--it makes no difference ... I want you to go on, please. I
want you to finish telling me--your news."

Arnold looked away from the closed door. He looked back again into
the girl's face. There was still that appearance of strained
attention about her mouth and eyes.

"You are right," he admitted. "These things, after all, are terrible
enough, but they are like the edge of a storm from which one has
found shelter. Isaac ought to realize it."

"Tell me what this is which has happened to you!" she begged.

He shook himself free from that cloud of memories. He gave himself
up instead to the joy of telling her his good news.

"Listen, then," he said. "Mr. Weatherley, in consideration not
altogether, I am afraid, of my clerklike abilities, but of my
shoulders and muscle, has appointed me his private secretary, with a
seat in his office and a salary of three pounds a week. Think of it,
Ruth! Three pounds a week!"

A smile lightened her face for a moment as she squeezed his fingers.

"But why?" she asked. "What do you mean about your shoulders and