valleys, the upper part rolling on and over in a cascade. Beneath its
shadow the warmth and brightness of the world had died.

"It strikes me we're going to be cold," remarked Keith, urging forward the
horse.

The roadbed became more solid, and they trotted along freely. The horse,
also, was anxious to get home. Signs of habitations thickened. The wide
waste hills of the ranchos had been left behind. Here and there were
outlying dwellings, or road houses, the objectives of pleasure excursions
of various sorts and degrees of respectability from the city. From one of
the latter came a hail.

"Oh, Keith! I say, Keith!"

From a group of people preparing to enter a number of vehicles two men came
running. Ben Sansome and Morrell, somewhat out of breath, came alongside.
They were a little flushed and elevated, but very cordial, and full of
reproaches that Keith had so entirely dropped out of sight during the past
week.

"I tell you, you must come over to our house for supper," said Morrell
finally. "Everybody comes."

"The Morrells' Sunday night suppers are an institution," supplemented
Sansome.

"I wish I could persuade you," urged Morrell. "I wonder where Mimi is. I
know Mrs. Morrell ought to call, and all that sort of thing, but this is
not a conventional place. We live next door, y'know. Do be delightful and