. I
want Dicky. And if you loved me--you'd let me alone."

"Tell me to go,--and I won't come back."

"Not ever?"

"Never."

She weakened. "But I don't want you to go away. You see, you are my good
friend, Pip."

She should not have let him stay. She knew that. She found it necessary
to apologize to Richard. "You see, Pip cares an awful lot."

Richard had little sympathy. "He might as well take his medicine and not
hang around you, Eve."

"If you would hang around a little more perhaps he wouldn't."

"I am very busy. You know that."

His voice was stern. "If I am a busy husband, will you make that an
excuse for having Pip at your heels?"

"_Richard._"

"I beg your pardon. I shouldn't have said that. But marriage to me means
more than good times. Life means more than good times. When I am here in
New York it seems to me sometimes that I am drugged by work and pleasure.
That there isn't a moment in which to live in a leisurely thoughtful
sense."

"You should have stayed at Crossroads."

"I can't go back. I have burned my bridges. Austin expects things of me,
and I must live up to his expectations. And, besides, I like it."

"Really, Dicky?"

"Really. There's a stimulus about the rush of it and the big things we
are doing. Austin is a giant. My association with him is the biggest
thing that has ever come into my life."

"Bigger than your love for me?"

Thus she brought him back to it. Making always demands upon him which he
could not meet. He found himself harassed by her continued harping on the
personal point of view, yet there were moments when she swung him into
step with her. And one of the moments came when she spoke of the yachting
trip. It was very hot, and Richard loved the sea.

"Dicky, I'll keep Pip in the background if you I promise to come."

"How can you keep him in the background when he is our host?"

"He is going to invite Marie-Louise. And he'll have to be nice to her.
And you and I----! Dicky, we'll feel the slap of the breeze in our faces,
and forget that there's a big city back of us with sick people in it, and
slums and hot nights. Dicky--I love you--and I am going to be your wife.
Won't you come--because I want you--_Dicky_?"

There were tears on her cheeks as she made her plea, and he was always
moved by her tears. It was his protective sense that had first tied him
to her; it was still through his chivalry that she made her most potent
appeal.

Marie-Louise was glad to