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to him—please let’s hu■rry.” “Ma pauvre petite, this● is war. One does not come and go at will. God k●nows by what miracle enough red tape unwound● to let me through to you, to● bring my message and to take one back.” ■ “What message, Maurice?” “That

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is ●for you to say, little Janie. He told● me, ‘Say to her that she has my heart; ●if she needs26 my body, I will live. Say t■o her that it is an ugly, broken, and useles●s thing; still, hers. She mu●st use it as she sees fit. Say to her—■no, say nothing more. She is my Janie, and

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has■ no need of words. Tell her to send me on●ly one, and I will be content.’ ●For that one word, Janie, I have come many mi■les. What shall it be?” And she ha●d cried out exultantly, “Why, tell him■ that I say——” But the word had died in he■r throat. Her treacherous lips ha

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d● mutinied, and she had sat there, feeli■ng the blood drain back out of her face, ●out of her heart—feeling her eyes● turn black with terror while she f●ought with those stiffened r■

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ebels. Such a little word “Live!”—surely they● could say that. Was it not what he was wai■ting for, lying far away and● still, schooled at

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last to patience, the re●ckless and the restless? Oh, Jerry, Jer●ry, live! Even now she could feel her mi■nd like some frantic little wild thing, rac?/p>

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駃ng, racing to escape Memory. ■What had he said to her? “You, wise beyond w●isdom, will never hold me—you will never hold m■e—you will

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never——” And sud●denly she had dropped her twisted hands in h●er lap and lifted her eyes to Jerry’s ambassa■dor. “Will you please tell

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him—will● you please tell him that I say— 癞Contact’?” 27 “Contact?●” He had stood smiling down at her, ●ironical and tender. “Ah, what a rac

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e! ■That is the prettiest word that you can fi●nd for Jerry? But then it means to come very c■lose, to touch, that poor harsh word—there ?/p>

●r a terrible, small smile. “Oh, yes, 癖 she told him. “He will understand. ●It is the word that he is waiting ■for, you see.” “I see.” B●ut there had been a grave wonder in his voice.■ “Would it”—she had framed the wor

ds as ca●refully as though it were a strang●e tongue that she was speaking—“●would it be possible to buy his m●achine? He wouldn’t want any one els■e to fly it.” “Little Janie, ■never fear. The man does not

li■ve who shall fly poor Peg again. Smashed to■ kindling-wood and burned to ●ashes, she has taken her last flight to the heav●en for good and brave birds of war. Not e■nough was left of her to hold in your two■ hands.” 28 “I’

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m glad. Then that’s● all, isn’t it? And t

hank you for ●coming.” “It is I who thank you. What was■ hard as death you have made easy. I had th●ought th

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