colour to the claim of it having been
settled, but there had been a haste about this letter which was
suspicious. Why could he not have stopped on the way to town as well as
now on the way home?

The question which was forming in Elizabeth's mind was cut short by
feeling John's arm stealing around her. She started and glanced at the
house apprehensively.

"Oh, they can't see us," John said, glad to have that phase of the
situation up for argument. "It wouldn't matter if they did, since we are
to be married so soon." He added the last warily and watched to see its
effect upon her.

"But I didn't want it to be as soon as that," the girl objected
half-heartedly, making her usual mistake of laying the vital point of
difference away to be settled in her own mind before she discussed it.
Perhaps after all John had thought it was settled the night before; at any
rate she would not speak of her suspicion till sure on that point.

John Hunter noticed that she did not refuse outright to consent to the
early marriage and drew her complacently to him.

"I couldn't wait that long, sweet. I want you and I want you now."

He drew her close, in a firm, insistent grasp of his strong arm. Her
resistance began to melt.

"I love you," his voice said close to her ear. She felt his eyes seeking
hers. His was the position of advantage. Elizabeth loved love, and she had
never had it before. She had never been wanted for love's sake. She wished
to believe him. It came over her that she had wronged him by even the
thought of an advantage having been taken of her. John's arm was about
her, he was pleading his love. Why be unpleasant about it? It was only a
little thing. As she had said in her engagement hour, Elizabeth wanted
love till she could die for it. She gave up, though something in her held
back and was left hungry.

As John Hunter drove home to Liza Ann's waiting dinner he said to
himself:

"Gosh! but I'm glad I got that letter off. I knew I'd better do it this
morning or she'd be hanging back. It worked better than I had any reason
to expect. She's going to be easy to manage. Mother ain't able to cook for
hired men. She's never had it to do--and she don't have to begin. This
school business is all foolishness, anyhow."

Elizabeth did not stand as usual and watch her lover drive toward home.
Something in her wanted to run away, to cry out, to forget. She was torn
by some indefinable thing; her confidence had received a shock