CHAPTER VII
"BETWIXT AND BETWEEN"
EVERY moment was bringing on the dawn more swiftly, and the eyes of Andy were growing more accustomed to the gloom in the house. He found the door of the girl's room at once. When he entered he had only to pause a moment before he had all the details clearly in mind. Other senses than that of sight informed him in her room. There was in the gray gloom a touch of fragrance such as blows out of gardens across a road; yet here the air was perfectly quiet and chill. The dawn advanced. A lesser place of darkness shone in the gloom across the back of a chair. He touched it; something silken and as light as the air. He gathered it into his hand, and it was reduced to a small thing against his palm.
But all that he could make out was a faint touch of color against the pillow—and that would be her hair. Then with astonishing clearness he saw her hand resting against her breast. Andy stood for a moment with his eyes closed, a great tenderness falling around him. The hush kept deepening, and the sense of the girl drew out to him as if a light were brightening about her. It was a holy moment to Andy. There was a feeling that a third presence was hovering about him, seeing and understanding, and that presence was God, he knew.
He stepped back to the table against the wall, took the chimney from the lamp, and flicked a match along his trousers, for in that way a match would make the least
