away. What was the use? He was such an extraordinary person! It was
not possible to measure him by the usual standards. She was obliged to
smile.

"You find blue--becoming?"

"Adorable," he replied, fervently. "I have dreamed of you in blue. You
wore blue only the night before last, when I wrote my little sketch of
'The Pavements of Bond Street on a Summer Afternoon.'"

She pointed to the journal which lay at her feet.

"I recognized myself, of course," she declared, trying to speak
severely. "It was most improper of you."

"It was nothing of the sort," he answered bluntly. "You came into the
picture and I could not keep you out. You were there, so you had to
stay."

"It was much too flattering," she objected.

Again he contradicted her.

"I could not flatter if I tried," he assured her. "It was just you."

She laughed softly.

"It is so difficult to argue with you," she murmured. "All the same, I
think that it was most improper. But then everything you do is
improper. You had no right to climb over that wall, you had no right to
walk here with me the other afternoon, even though you had driven away a
tame cow. You have no right whatever to be here to-day. What about
your wife?"

"I have been to Garden Green," he announced. "I offered her
emancipation, the same emancipation as that which I myself have
attained. She refused it absolutely. She is satisfied with Garden
Green."

"You mean," the girl asked, "that she refuses the--the--"

"Beans," he said. "Precisely! She did more than refuse them--she threw
them out of the window. She has no imagination. From her point of view
I suppose she behaved in a perfectly natural fashion. She told me to go
my own way and leave her alone."

Edith sighed.

"It is very unfortunate," she declared, "that you were not able to
convince her."

"Is it?" he replied. "I tried my best, and when I had failed I was
glad."

She raised her eyes for a moment but she shook her head.

"I am afraid that it doesn't make any difference, does it?

"Why not? It makes all the difference," he insisted.

"My dear Mr. Burton," she expostulated, making room for him to sit down
beside her, "I cannot possibly allow you to make love to me because your
wife refuses to swallow a bean!"

"But she threw them out of the window!" he persisted. "She understood
quite well what she was doing. Her action was entirely symbolical. She
declared for Garden Green and the vulgar life."

For a girl