ether by
common interests and aspirations.

She was brought to earth by Nan's sudden exclamation that she must go
home. There was no question about it, she said, when they pleaded the
storm as a reason for spending the night; she had come merely to relieve
Phil's loneliness. Nan protested that she could go alone; but Kirkwood
without debating the matter got into his ulster, and Phil, screened by
the door, watched them pass under the electric light at the corner.

* * * * *

The streets were deserted and the storm had its will with the world. Nan
and Kirkwood stopped for breath and to shake off the snow where a
grocer's shed protected the sidewalk.

"I came back to-night," he said, "because I wanted to see you, and I
knew I should find you with Phil. Nan, after what happened at Amzi's the
other night I find I need you more than I ever knew. I was afraid you
might imagine that would make a difference. But not in the way you may
think--not about Lois! It was just the thought of him--that he had once
been my friend, and came back like that. It was only that, Nan. If she
had come back and stood there in the door I shouldn't have had a twinge.
I'm all over that. I've been over it for a long time."

"I think I understand that, but nothing can make any difference as to
us. That is one thing that is not for this world! Come, we must hurry
on!"

As she took a step forward he sprang in front of her.

"Nan, I've got to go back to the city on the morning train. I want you
to tell me now that you will marry me--let us say in the spring. Let me
have that to look forward to. I've waited a long time, and the years are
passing. I want you to say 'yes' to-night."

He touched her shoulders lightly with his hands. They slipped along her
arms till he clasped her fingers, tightly clenched in her muff.

"You love me, Nan; I know you do! And you have known a long time that I
care for you. Nothing was ever as dear as the thought of you. Whatever
has gone before in my life is done and passed. I can't have you say 'no'
to me. Please, dear Nan--dearest!"

It was a strange place for lovers' talk, but the tumult of the storm was
in Kirkwood's heart. The weariness of a laborious day vanished in the
presence of this woman. His habitual restraint, the reticences of his
nature were swept away. His was no midsummer passion; winter's
battle-song throbbed in his pulses. He caught her arm roughly as she
sought to co