EPILOGUE
"Three years ago to-day," said Howard Stanton, "you went away from Bohemia."
"And a year ago day before yesterday," answered Helen, "you came striding up that walk. Do you remember?"
"Do I remember!" he cried. "I stayed away as long as I could."
They were sitting on the veranda of Helen's ancestral home. Ivy and clematis and wisteria, climbing about the stone pillars, made a green background for the two heads. Before them stretched the lawn that had been the pride of Helen's great-grandfather.
"I told Sarah to bring out the tea-things," said a soft voice from the doorway. "Now I am going upstairs. I do not care for any tea."
A gray-haired lady was standing behind them. Family tradition lurked in the old-fashioned curls at the sides of her face,
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