feet, walked to the fireplace, and with an
arm on the mantel, stood partly turned away from her, looking into the
fire. He dared not look at her. In that moment he was passionately
calling on the new self-control which had been born during the past
year; and, at his call, it again awoke in him, ready for its work. This,
he had just truly said to Doris, was not the time nor the place to tell
her what was in his heart. Only a cad would take advantage of such an
opportunity. He had said enough, perhaps too much. He drew a deep breath
and was himself.

"I told you you'd find all sorts of unexpected virtues in me," he
lightly announced; and it was the familiar Laurie who smiled down at
her. "There are dozens more you don't dream of. I'll reveal them to you
guardedly. They're rather overwhelming."

She smiled vaguely at his chatter, but it was plain that she was
following her own thoughts.

"The most wonderful thing about you," she said, "is that through this
whole experience, you've never, for one single instant, been 'heroic.'
You're not the kind to 'emote'!"

"Great Scott!" gasped Laurie, startled. "I should hope not!"

He could look at her now, and he did, his heart filled with the
satisfying beauty of her. She was still leaning forward a little in the
low chair, with her hands unconventionally clasped around one knee, and
her eyes staring into the fire. A painter, he reflected, would go mad
over the picture she made; and why not? He himself was going mad over
it, was even a little light-headed.

She wore again the gown she had worn the first day he saw her, and the
memory of that poignant hour intensified the emotion of this one. Taking
her in, from the superb masses of hair on her small head to the
glittering buckles on her low house-shoes, Laurie knew at last that
whoever and whatever this girl might be, she was the one whose
companionship through life his hungry heart demanded. He loved her. He
would trust her, blindly if he must, but whatever happened fully and for
all time.

There had been a long silence after his last words, but when she spoke
it was as if there had been no interval between his chatter and her
response.

"Almost any other man would have been 'heroic,'" she went on. "Almost
any other man would have been excited and emotional at times, and then
would have been exacting and difficult and rebellious over all the
mystery, and the fact that I couldn't explain. I've set that pace
myself," she c