y, affectionately rallying her, "aren't you being
rather naughty--rather wilful, really? Didn't you like Michael?"

"Guy, you can't expect me to know whether I liked him in a minute. He
made me feel shyer than even most people do."

"Well, let's talk about the book instead," said Guy, "What color shall
the binding be?"

"What color did he suggest?"

"I see you're determined to be horrid about my poor, harmless Michael."

"Well, why must he be brought down like this to approve of your book?"

"Oh, he has good taste, and besides he's interested in you and me."

"What did you tell him about us?" Pauline asked, sharply.

"Nothing, my dearest, nothing," said Guy, flinging his stick for Bob to
chase over the furrows. "At least," he added, turning and looking down
at her with eyebrows arched in pretended despair of her
unreasonableness, "I expect I bored him to death with singing your
praises."

Still Pauline could not feel charitable, and still she could not smile
at Guy.

"Ah, my rose," he said, tenderly. "Why will you droop? Why will you
care about people who cannot matter to us? My own Pauline, can't you see
that I called in a third person because I dare not trust myself now. All
the day long, all the night long you are my care. I'm so dreadfully
anxious to justify myself; I long for assurance at every step; once I
was self-confident, but I can't be self-confident any longer. Success is
no responsibility in itself, but now...."

"It's my responsibility," cried Pauline, melting to him. "Oh, forgive me
for being jealous. Darling boy, it's just my foolish ignorance that
makes me jealous of some one who can give you more than I."

"But no one can!" he vowed. "I only asked Michael's advice because you
are too kind a judge. My success is of such desperate importance to us
two. What would it have mattered before I met you? Now my failure
would.... Oh, Pauline, failure is too horrible to think of!"

"As if you could fail," she chided, gently. "And if you did fail, I
would almost be glad, because I would love you all the more."

"Pauline, would you?"

"Ah no, I wouldn't," she whispered. "Because I could not love you more
than I do now."

The dog, with a sigh, dropped his stick; he was become accustomed to
these interludes.

"Bob gives us up as hopeless," Guy laughed.

"I'm not a bit sympathetic, you jealous dog," she said. "Because you
have your master all day long."

The next time Guy came to the Rectory he