l life. However if you
insist that we must quarrel, in order to demonstrate the
sincerity of my affection, I shall suggest that we have our spats
when we part for the night, in order that no precious waking
hours may be lost."

"You are joking," she exclaimed with a little pout.

"Not at all. Still," I added reflectively, "even this plan has
its disadvantages, for if we quarrel when we part at night, it
will necessitate my return to your window, which would not only
annoy your aunt but might scandalize the neighbors. Furthermore
it might give me a shocking cold, unless you immediately
repented, for the nights are very damp. No," I sighed with great
feeling, "all this seems impracticable. You must give me a better
reason for my coldness."

Phyllis toyed with a clover blossom, and made no answer. I went
on:

"As a slight indication of my unlover-like hauteur, let me
confess that I am going to bring you a marvellously glittering
bauble when I come back from the city, something that will
bewilder you by day and dazzle you by night."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Of course you are; you are always
giving me presents."

I laughed at this. "Well, suppose I am; I have never heard that
it is a sign of waning affection to bestow gifts on the loved
one."

"You refuse me nothing. I dare say you would give me the Boston
State House if I wished it."

"No, you are wrong there," I replied decisively. "If I bought the
State House I should be compelled to include the emblematic
codfish, and you know my aversion to codfish."

She smiled at the thought, recalling the Sunday breakfast, and
then with a roguish look and a half-embarrassed laugh she said:
"At all events you cannot deny that you did not kiss me when you
left last night."

"Didn't I?" I asked in amazement, and then, quite thrown off my
guard, I added thoughtlessly: "I had forgotten."

"That," she replied quietly, "was because you were so taken up
with the philosophy of love, and the mental attitude, that you
overlooked the physical demonstration. Do you remember the
conversation?"

Unfortunately I did. I recalled that I had spent an hour or more
defining the moral status of love and proving the sufficing
reason. It was not a pleasant reflection that so agreeable and
instructive a conversation was not thoroughly appreciated.

"We spoke at length on love," I ventured feebly.

"That is, you did," she replied. "I'll admit that it was better
than an ordinary ser