as she
extended her right. Dark hair falling below her waist framed a face
whose curves and feature-modelings were all separate delights uniting to
make a total of somewhat gorgeous loveliness. Her lips were crimson
petals in a face as creamy white as a magnolia bloom, and her dark eyes
twinkled with inward mischief. It was a face which in repose held that
serenely grave quality which a painter might have selected for his study
of a saint--and which, when her little teeth flashed and her eyes
kindled in a smile, broke into a dazzling and infectious gayety. She was
smiling now.

"'Up from the meadows rich with corn'?" she inquired, as though they had
parted yesterday.

Stuart Farquaharson broke into a peal of laughter as he caught the
extended hand in both his own and finished the quotation.

"Clear in the cool September morn, the clustered spires of
Frederick stand,
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland ...

By the way," his voice took on a note of sudden trepidation--"you aren't
married, are you?"

It was a point upon which she did not at the moment resolve his doubts.
She was standing at gaze herself, critically taking him in. She let her
appraisal begin at the dark hair which the water had twisted into a
curling lawlessness and end at his feet which were somewhat small for
his stature. The general impression of that scrutiny was one which she
secretly acknowledged to be startlingly, almost thrillingly, favorable.
Then she realized that while one of her hands continued to dangle a wet
stocking, the other was still tightly clasped in his own and that he was
repeating his question.

"Why do you ask?" she naively inquired, as she quietly sought to
disengage her imprisoned fingers.

"Why!" he echoed, in a shocked voice, pretending unconsciousness of her
efforts at self-liberation. "Why does one ever ask a vital question? The
last time I saw you I told you candidly that I meant to marry you. If
you're already married--why, it might complicate matters, don't you
think?"

"It _might_," the young woman conceded. "It might even alter matters
altogether--but don't you think that even for a reunion we seem to have
shaken hands almost long enough?"

With reluctance he released the captive fingers and reminded her that he
was still unanswered.

"No," she told him, "I'm not married so far--of course I've tried hard,
but the honest gander hasn't volunteered."

"Thank God!" was his instant and fe