She was going back a sort of cripple to the place from which she had escaped to put the key into life; once more to read to her grandfather, to obey the orders of her grandmother, to sleep in the warm kind arms of her old bedroom, to go among the flowers and trees among which she had grown up, herself old and tired and ashamed and broken-hearted, with her gold ring burning into her finger and the constant vision of Martin's shining armor lying bent and rusty before her eyes.

What an end to her great adventure! Gilbert came up.

He walked without his usual affectation of never permitting anything to hurry him.

All about him there was still a sort of exaltation.

His eyes were amazingly bright.