fore him for the first
time in evening dress, and when he entered the drawing-room she stood
under a chandelier in blushing and resplendent confusion, but he seemed
not to recognize that he had never seen her that way before, and for
another reason June remained confused, disappointed and hurt, for he
was not only unobserving, and seemingly unappreciative, but he was more
silent than ever that night and he looked gloomy. But if he had grown
accustomed to her beauty, there were others who had not, and smart,
dapper college youths gathered about her like bees around a flower--a
triumphant fact to which he also seemed indifferent. Moreover, he was
not in evening clothes that night and she did not know whether he had
forgotten or was indifferent to them, and the contrast that he was made
her that night almost ashamed for him. She never guessed what the matter
was, for Hale kept his troubles to himself. He was always gentle and
kind, he was as lavish with her as though he were a king, and she was
as lavish and prodigally generous as though she were a princess. There
seemed no limit to the wizard income from the investments that Hale
had made for her when, as he said, he sold a part of her stock in the
Lonesome Cove mine, and what she wanted Hale always sent her without
question. Only, as the end was coming on at the Gap, he wrote once to
know if a certain amount would carry her through until she was ready to
come home, but even that question aroused no suspicion in thoughtless
June. And then that last year he had come no more--always, always he was
too busy. Not even on her triumphal night at the end of the session was
he there, when she had stood before the guests and patrons of the school
like a goddess, and had thrilled them into startling applause, her
teachers into open glowing pride, the other girls into bright-eyed envy
and herself into still another new world. Now she was going home and she
was glad to go.

She had awakened that morning with the keen air of the mountains in her
nostrils--the air she had breathed in when she was born, and her eyes
shone happily when she saw through her window the loved blue hills along
which raced the train. They were only a little way from the town where
she must change, the porter said; she had overslept and she had no time
even to wash her face and hands, and that worried her a good deal. The
porter nearly lost his equilibrium when she gave him half a dollar--for
women are not prof