them with a little gasp.

"Oh,--do you mind waiting just a minute? I believe I'll just run up and
get my things, Jane. You know what a fussbudget I am about my own things.
And I'll just slip into another dress so I won't have to put this on for
breakfast. It won't take me two _minutes_--" She flew up the front steps
and let herself softly in with her latch key, and instantly ill humor
fell from Martin Wetherby.

"Sally's all right," he chuckled. "I'm for Sally!" He swept Jane out of
the circle of light from the street lamp, into the black shadow of the
Farraday shrubbery, and into a breathless embrace. "You--little--rascal--"
he said, huskily, gasping a trifle as he always did in moments of high
emotion. "You--little--witch! Now I've got you--and I'm going to keep
you! Now I guess you'll listen to what I've got to say and--and answer
me!" His broad, warm face was coming inexorably nearer; life--the
pleasant and placid pattern of Wetherby Ridge--was coming inexorably
nearer; life with melted marshmallows floating on its surface!

"Oh, Marty, please!" She was fatally calm and earnest about it. "I'm so
sorry--sorrier than I can tell you,--but you mustn't say it! You mustn't
make me answer you."

He was busily getting both her cool hands into the hot grasp of one of
his own, and the fingers of his other hand, a little moist, were forcing
themselves beneath her chin, but there was something in the honest
sorriness of her tone which made him pause even in that triumphant and
satisfying moment. "Why? You little----"

"Because," said Jane, steadily, "I do like you such a lot, Marty dear,
and I wish you wouldn't ask me, and make me tell you that I don't--I
can't----"

Then with a swift and amazing sense of rescue, of sanctuary, she heard
herself saying, "Besides, you see, I'm going away!"

CHAPTER II

While Jane's astounding utterance seemed to float and echo on the
November night air, Sarah Farraday let herself as stealthily out of her
front door as she had let herself in, and came softly down the steps. "I
didn't wake mother," she said in a whisper. She was in sober, every-day
serge now, and pulling on her second-best cloak. She carried a small bag
and was faintly pink with her haste. There was apprehension in the look
she gave her friend. "Wasn't I quick, Jane?" She had left them alone to
give Martin Wetherby his chance, but ancient girl loyalty had winged her
heels.

"Yes," s