e must know John, and somehow
the words got suddenly tangled in her throat, and the sentence was
unfinished for the fraction of a moment and then ended differently from
what she had intended: "And I shall be so glad to have you for a
neighbour, and You'll marry--now who will you marry?"

Luther, who had begun to like this new Elizabeth even better than the girl
of six years ago, had his little turn in the dark shadow of Nathan's
overhanging roof at the mention of this love affair, but he swallowed the
bitter pill like a man. The renewed acquaintance had been begun on
friendly lines and through all the days which followed it was kept rigidly
on that ground. He was glad to have been told frankly and at once of John
Hunter's claims.

In spite of the fact that Elizabeth had stumbled and found herself unable
to suggest that John and Luther were to be friends, she talked to Luther
of her plans, her hopes of becoming a good housekeeper, her efforts at
cooking, and of the sewing she was engaged upon. He learned, in time, of
the disagreements with her father, and was not surprised, and with him she
took up the subject of the marital relations at home. Luther's experience
was more limited than Susan Hornby's, but he looked the matter of personal
relations squarely in the face and discussed them without reserve. There
was always something left to be finished between them, and night after
night they walked or sat together on the doorstep till late. Nathan looked
on disapprovingly, not understanding the bond between them, but Susan, who
heard the girl chatting happily about her coming marriage, saw that the
friendship was on safe ground and laughed away his fears.

Nathan had found his first friend since his Topeka experience, and was
unwilling to see him come to harm; also, while Nathan had come to love
Elizabeth almost as much as his own daughter, and to miss her when she was
away, he was uncomfortably aware that she prized a culture which he did
not possess, and was subject to fits of jealousy and distrust because of
it.

Days passed. Elizabeth could not induce herself to call on her future
mother-in-law. The surety that she was cheapened by reports of her home
affairs stung her consciousness and made it impossible to make the call
which she knew she would certainly give offence by omitting. This, too,
she talked over with Luther, and he advised her to go at once. Each day
she would promise, and each day she would make excuses