It was the voice of a city--of a nation.

It was the voice of a people crying out the strife and the agony of the year--pealing forth a prayer for the future.
Glenn had put his lips to her ear: "It's like the voice in my soul!" Never would she forget the shock of that.

And how she had stood spellbound, enveloped in the mighty volume of sound no longer discordant, but full of great, pregnant melody, until the white ball burst upon the tower of the Times Building, showing the bright figures 1919.
The new year had not been many minutes old when Glenn Kilbourne had told her he was going West to try to recover his health.
Carley roused out of her memories to take up the letter that had so perplexed her.

It bore the postmark, Flagstaff, Arizona.

She reread it with slow pondering thoughtfulness.
WEST FORK, March 25.
DEAR CARLEY: It does seem my neglect in writing you is unpardonable.