brother-in-law, if he's any common
sense in his head. I'm the last husband he'd choose for his sister."

"But, Mike, how can you?"

"Yes, Meg, there are times when I don't 'walk on my head,' when I see
with Freddy's sane eyes. It's what he'd call damned cheek of me to
speak of love to you."

"I'd have called it horrid if you hadn't."

"You delicious Meg, would you really?"

"Yes, I would, horrid and cruel. I'd have imagined you really cared
for . . ." she paused and then went on tenderly, ". . . no, I won't say
it, Mike."

"Really cared!" he said. "Why, you have taught me what that word
means. You'll never doubt that?"

"No," Meg said. "Not now. I know this is new to us both. I won't
doubt anything ever again."

"She was friendless," he said. "And for some strange reason she
thought herself fond of me."

"What a very strange thing to feel! I really can't understand it.
Fancy a woman feeling fond of a thing that walks on its head!"

"Don't laugh, Meg. She does, or thinks she does."

Meg looked into his eyes. "I'll never doubt you, Mike," she said, "if
you'll tell me, under these dear stars, which have made you confess
your love for me, that there has been no deep feeling on your side,
that there is nothing that matters between you."

Mike took her two hands. "On my side, there has been nothing but
friendship, I swear it," he said. "I never, never desired anything
else. There has been nothing that matters."

"I'm so glad," Meg said. "You're so high, Mike, so awfully high in my
love. Your drifting is all a part of it. I love you for all your mad
dreams and dear unworldliness, for your struggling and striving for the
highest. I should hate to have to believe that you were less high than
I imagined."

"But I kissed her, Meg," he said, abruptly. The truth was drawn from
him, as his confession of love had been, torn from him by some power
outside himself. He hated giving her pain, and it had been scarcely
necessary if Margaret had been other than she was.

It had not mattered--yet if truth was beauty and beauty was God, and
his religion was that the kingdom of God is within us, how could he
hold it back, this deed which, little as it might seem in the eyes of
most people, had been for him a thing which did matter?

"You kissed her!" Meg said. Something that was not love was now
bursting her throat. Her voice was uncertain. It hurt Michael like a
thrust from a sharp knife.

"Yes,"