But in another six months we'll be out of the woods and on our way to big money." Now another strange thing happened to John Barclay that evening, and this time it was what he saw, not what he failed to see, that puzzled him.

For just as he sealed the letter to his friend, and thumped his lean fist on it to blot the address on the envelope and press the mucilage down, he looked around suddenly, though he never knew why, and there, just outside the rim of light from his lampshade, trembled the image of Ellen Culpepper with her red and black checked flannel dress at her shoe tops and his rubber button ring upon her finger.

She smiled at him sweetly for a moment and shook her head sadly, and her curls fluttered upon her shoulders, and then she seemed to fade into the general's desk by the opposite wall.

John was pallid and frightened for a moment; then as he looked at the great pile of letters before him he realized how tired and worn he was.

But the face and the eyes haunted him and brought back old memories, and that night he and Jane and Molly Culpepper went to Hendricks', and he played the piano for an hour in the firelight, and dreamed old dreams.