out your disinterested admiration for a working girl. You
haven't anything in common with her, and you never could have. And
you'd better be very careful not to make a fool of yourself."

"How?"

"As all men are likely to do at your callow age."

"Fall in love with her?"

"You can call it that. The result is always deplorable. And if she's a
smart, selfish, and unscrupulous girl, the result may be more
deplorable still, as far as we all are concerned. What is the need of
my saying this? You are grown; you know it already. Up to the present
time you've kept fastidiously clear of such entanglements. You say you
have, and your father and I believe you. So what is the use of
beginning now,--creating an unfortunate impression in your own set,
spending your time with such a girl as this Greensleeve girl--"

"Mother," he said, "you're going about this matter in the wrong way. I
am not in love with Athalie Greensleeve. But there is no girl I like
better, none perhaps I like quite as well. Let me alone. There's no
sentiment between her and me so far. There won't be any--unless you
and other people begin to drive us toward each other. I don't want you
to do that. Don't interfere. Let us alone. We're having a good
time,--a perfectly natural, wholesome, happy time together."

[Illustration: "'I _like_ her,' repeated Clive, Jr., a trifle
annoyed."]

"What is it leading to?" demanded his mother impatiently.

"To nothing except more good times. That's absolutely all. That's all
that good times lead to where any of the girls you approve of are
concerned--not to sentiment, not to love, merely to more good times.
Why on earth can't people understand that even if the girl happens to
be earning her own living?"

"People don't understand. That is the truth, and you can't alter it,
Clive. The girl's reputation will always suffer. And that's where you
ought to show yourself generous."

"What?"

"If you really like and respect her."

"How am I to show myself generous, as you put it?"

"By keeping away from her."

"Because people gossip?"

"Because," said his mother sharply, "they'll think the girl is your
mistress if you continue to decorate public resorts with her."

"Would--_you_ think so, mother?"

"No. You happen to be my son. And you're truthful. Otherwise I'd think
so."

"You would?"

"Certainly."

"That's rotten," he said, slowly.

"Oh, Clive, don't be a fool. You can't do what you're doing without
arousing