lia! be fair to yourself,
darling! Tell me that you care for me. I've waited seven years for you,
dear--"

"Oh, you have not!" Julia said impatiently.

"I'd like to know why I haven't!" Mark said challengingly. "Ah, but you
know I have, darling. And I want my wife." It was a Saturday afternoon,
and Miss Toland was dozing in her own room. Julia and Mark were alone in
the deserted assembly hall. Suddenly he slipped on his knees beside her,
and locked one arm about her waist. "You will, won't you, Julia?" he
stammered.

Julia, scarlet cheeked, tried to rise, and held him off with her hands.

"Oh, please, _please_," she begged. "I can't, Mark. You are awfully good
to me--I'm not worth it, and all that--but I _can't_. I--it's not my fault
I don't want to, is it? It would be wrong to do it, feeling this way--"

She was on her feet now, and Mark stood up, too. Both were breathing
hard; they looked at each other through a widening silence. Flies buzzed
against the closed windows, a gust of summer wind swept along the street
outside. Suddenly Mark caught Julia fiercely in his arms, and felt her
heart beating madly against him, and forcing up her chin with a gentle
big hand, kissed her again and again upon her unresponsive lips.

"There!" he said, freeing her, a laugh of triumph in his voice. "Now you
belong to me! That's the kind of a man that's in love with you, my girl,
and don't you think for one instant that you can play fast and loose
with him!"

Julia sat still for a long time after the street door banged, staring
straight ahead of her. She was going for this week-end to the little
house the Scotts had been loaned in Belvedere for the season, and she
dressed and packed her suitcase very soberly. Miss Toland went with her
to the ferry, both glad to get the fresh breath of the water, and Julia
had a riotous dinner with the Scotts, and a wonderful evening drifting
about in their punt between the stars in the low summer sky and the
stars in the bay. When they were in their porch beds she told Kennedy
all about Mark, and Kennedy commented that he certainly was a
gratifyingly ardent admirer.

"Ardent? I should think so!" sighed Julia, and went to sleep, not
ill-pleased with her role of the inaccessible lady. But the fact that
Mark's persistence could not be discouraged fretted her a good deal. He
rarely gave her a chance for a definite snub; if she was ungracious, his
humble patience waited tirelessly upon her mood; and