Then her bolder thought died.  She, who had forced herself so relentlessly to face the world as a woman faces it, with the knowledge and the courage of maturity, felt her wisdom slip from her.  She was a girl, very lonely, facing a task too large for her, needing the comfort of her lover’s word.  She stretched herself upon the sand, face downward, weeping, because she was afraid of life—­because she was wishful for the joy of woman and dared not take it.

* * * * *

“Have you decided?” asked Honora in the morning.

“I think so,” answered Kate.

Honora scrutinized the face of her friend.

“Accept,” she said, “my profound commiseration.”  Her tone seemed to imply that she included contempt.

After this, there was a change in Honora’s attitude toward her.  Kate felt herself more alone than she ever had been in her life.  It was as if she had been cast out into a desert—­a sandy plain smitten with the relentless Sun of Life, and in it was no house of refuge, no comfortable tree, no waters of healing.  No, nor any other soul.  Alone she walked there, and the only figures she saw were those of the mirage.  It gave her a sort of relief to turn her face eastward and to feel that she must traverse the actual desert, and come at the end to literal combat.

XXXIII

Two dragons, shedding fire, had paused midway of the desert.  One was the Overland Express racing from Los Angeles to Kansas City; its fellow was headed for the west.  Both had halted for fuel and water and the refreshment of the passengers.  The dusk was gathering over the illimitable sandy plain, and the sun, setting behind wind-blown buttes, wore a sinister glow.  By its fantastic light the men and women from the trains paced back and forth on the wide platform, or visited the luxurious eating-house, where palms and dripping waters, roses and inviting food bade them forget that they were on the desert.

Kate and Honora had dined and were walking back and forth in the deep amber light.

“Such a world to live in,” cried Kate admiringly, pressing Honora’s arm to her side.  “Do you know, of all the places that I might have imagined as desirable for residence, I believe I like our old earth the best!”

She was in an inconsequential mood, and Honora indulged her with smiling silence.

“I couldn’t have thought of a finer desert than this if I had tried,” she went on gayly.  “And this wicked saffron glow is precisely the color to throw on it.  What a mistake it would have been if some supernal electrician had dropped a green or a blue spot-light on the scene!  Now, just hear that fountain dripping and that ground-wind whispering!  Who wouldn’t live in the arid lands?  It’s all as it should be.  So are you, too, aren’t you, Honora?  You’ve forgiven me, too, I know you have; and you’re getting stronger every day, and making ready for happiness, aren’t you?”