The slender white hand touched Ruth's head, turned it until the strange, flecked orbs looked directly into the misty ones of blue.
Long they gazed--and deep.

Then she who had named herself Norhala thrust out a finger, touched the tear that hung upon Ruth's curled lashes, regarded it wonderingly.
Something of recognition, of memory, seemed to awaken within her.
"You are--troubled ?" she asked with that halting effort.
Ruth shook her head.
"THEY--do not trouble you ?" She pointed to the huddled heaps strewing the hollow.

And then I saw whence the light which had streamed from her great eyes came.

For the little azure and golden stars paled, trembled, then flashed out like galaxies of tiny, clustered silver suns.
From that weird radiance Ruth shrank, affrighted.
"No--no," she gasped.

"I weep for--HIM." She pointed where Chiu-Ming lay, a brown blotch at the edge of the shattered men.
"For--him ?" There was puzzlement in the faint voice.