pretend. I want to, but somehow--I can't."

Etta felt that she could give herself the pleasure of
unburdening herself of a secret. "Then I may as well tell you,
he's engaged to a girl he thinks he ought to marry."

"I suspected so."

"And you don't mind?" inquired Etta, unable to read Susan's
queer expression.

"Except for him--and her--a little," replied Susan. "I guess
that's why I haven't liked him better--haven't trusted him at all."

"Aren't men dreadful! And he is so nice in many ways. . . .
Lorna----" Etta was weeping again. "I can't go--I can't. I
mustn't leave you."

"Don't be absurd. You've simply got to do it."

"And I do love him," said Etta, calmed again by Susan's
calmness. "And if he married me--Oh, how grateful I'd be!"

"I should say!" exclaimed Susan. She kissed Etta and petted her.
"And he'll have a mighty good wife."

"Do you think I can marry him?"

"If you love him--and don't worry about catching him."

Etta shook her head in rejection of this piece of idealistic advice.
"But a girl's got to be shrewd. You ought to be more so, Lorna."

"That depends on what a girl wants," said Susan, absently. "Upon
what she wants," she repeated.

"What do _you_ want?" inquired Etta curiously.

"I don't know," Susan answered slowly.

"I wish I knew what was going on in your head!" exclaimed Etta.

"So do I," said Susan, smiling.

"Do you really mind my going? Really--honestly?"

There wasn't a flaw in Susan's look or tone. "If you tried to
stay with me, I'd run away from you."

"And if I do get him, I can help you. Once he's mine----" Etta
rounded out her sentence with an expression of countenance which
it was well her adoring rescuer did not see. Not that it lacked
womanliness; "womanly" is the word that most exactly describes
it--and always will exactly describe such expressions--and the
thoughts behind--so long as men compel women to be just women,
under penalty of refusing them support if they are not so.

Redmond came in, and Etta left him alone with Susan. "Well, has
Etta told you?" he asked.

"Yes," replied the girl. She looked at him--simply a look, but
the violet-gray eyes had an unusual seeming of seeing into minds
and hearts, an expression that was perhaps the more disquieting
because it was sympathetic rather than critical.

His glance shifted. He was a notably handsome young fellow--too
young for any display of character in his face, or for any
developmen