o _reason_ for being on guard. Still, I feel
that way." She looked at him with sweet gravity. "Perhaps I shouldn't if
you didn't talk about love to me and kiss me in a way I feel you've no
right to."

Again he laid his hands upon her shoulders. This time he gazed angrily
into her eyes. "Are you a fool? Or are you making a fool of me?" he
said. "I can't decide which."

"I certainly am very foolish," was her apologetic answer. "I don't know
a lot of things, like you and father. I'm only a girl."

And he had the maddening sense of being baffled again--of having got
nowhere, of having demonstrated afresh to himself and to her his own
weakness where she was concerned. What unbelievable weakness! Had there
ever been such another case? Yes, there must have been. How little he
had known of the possibilities of the relations of men and women--he
who had prided himself on knowing all!

She said, "You are going to marry?"

"I suppose so," replied he sourly.

"Are you worried about the expense? Is it costing you too much, this
helping father? Are you sorry you went into it?"

He was silent.

"You are sorry?" she exclaimed. "You feel that you are wasting your
money?"

His generosity forbade him to keep up the pretense that might aid him in
his project. "No," he said hastily. "No, indeed. This expense--it's
nothing." He flushed, hung his head in shame before his own weakness, as
he added, in complete surrender, "I'm very glad to be helping your
father."

"I knew you would be!" she cried triumphantly. "I knew it!" And she
flung her arms round his neck and kissed him.

"That's better!" he said with a foolishly delighted laugh. "I believe we
are beginning to get acquainted."

"Yes, indeed. I feel quite different already."

"I hoped so. You are coming to your senses?"

"Perhaps. Only--" She laid a beautiful white pleading hand upon his
shoulder and gazed earnestly into his eyes--"please don't frighten me
with that talk--and those other kisses."

He looked at her uncertainly. "Come round in your own way," he said at
last. "I don't want to hurry you. I suppose every bird has its own way
of dropping from a perch."

"You don't like my way?" she inquired.

It was said archly but also in the way that always made him vaguely
uneasy, made him feel like one facing a mystery which should be explored
cautiously. "It is graceful," he admitted, with a smile since he could
not venture to frown. "Graceful--but slow."

She laugh