s liberty."

"I don't know about that. And a good many crimes have been committed in
its name." Even in his unhappiness he was controversial. "We are never
really free, so long as we love people, and they love us. Well--" He
picked up his old felt hat and absently turned down the brim; it was
raining. "I'll have to get back. I've overstayed my lunch hour as it
is."

"You haven't had any luncheon?"

"I wasn't hungry," he had said, and had gone away, his coat collar
turned up against the shower. Lily had had a presentiment that he was
taking himself out of her life, that he had given her up as a bad job.
She felt depressed and lonely, and not quite so sure of herself as
she had been; rather, although she did not put it that way, as though
something fine had passed her way, like Pippa singing, and had then gone
on.

She settled down as well as she could to her new life, making no plans,
however, and always with the stricken feeling that she had gained her
own point at the cost of much suffering. She telephoned to her mother
daily, broken little conversations with long pauses while Grace steadied
her voice. Once her mother hung up the receiver hastily, and Lily
guessed that her grandfather had come in. She felt very bitter toward
him.

But she found the small oneage interesting, in a quiet way; to make
her own bed and mend her stockings--Grace had sent her a trunkful of
clothing; and on the elderly maid's afternoon out, to help Elinor with
the supper. She seldom went out, but Louis Akers came daily, and on the
sixth day of her stay she promised to marry him.

She had not meant to do it, but it was difficult to refuse him. She had
let him think she would do it ultimately, for one thing. And, however
clearly she might analyze him in his absences, his strange attraction
reasserted itself when he was near. But her acceptance of him was almost
stoical.

"But not soon, Louis," she said, holding him off. "And--I ought to tell
you--I don't think we will be happy together."

"Why not?"

"Because--" she found it hard to put into words--"because love with you
is a sort of selfish thing, I think."

"I'll lie down now and let you tramp on me," he said exultantly, and
held out his arms. But even as she moved toward him she voiced her inner
perplexity.

"I never seem to be able to see myself married to you."

"Then the sooner the better, so you can."

"You won't like being married, you know."

"That's all you know abou