bject. But far be it
from us to steal the professor's thunder. We are not writing a book
upon primitive psychology. We are interested only in the sigh of
pleasurable satisfaction with which the professor's secretary closed
her fat note-book and called it a day.

From that point our interest leads us back to camp along the trail
through the warm June woods with the late sunlight hanging like golden
gauze behind the fretted screens of green. We are interested in sunsets
and in basket suppers eaten in the dim coolness of a miniature canyon
through which rushed and tumbled an icy stream from, the snow peaks far
above. We are interested in a breathless race with a chattering
squirrel during which Desire's hair came down--a bit of glorious autumn
in the deep green wood--and the tying of it up again (a lengthy
process) by the professor with cleverly plaited stems of tender
bracken. All these trifles interest us because, to those two who knew
them, they remained fresh and living memories when the note-book and
its contents were buried in the dust of yesterday.

It was twilight when they came out of the wood. The sun had gone and
taken its golden trappings with it. A clear, still light was everywhere
and, in the brilliant green of the far sky, a pale star shone. They
watched it brighten as the green grew dark. A wonderful purple blueness
spread upon the distant hills.

Desire sighed happily.

"It is the end of the first day of real work," she said. "The end and
the beginning."

Her companion, usually like wax to her moods, made no answer. He did
not seem to hear. His gaze seemed drowned in that wonderful blue.
Desire, who had been unaccountably content, felt suddenly lonely and
disturbed.

"What is it?" she asked. Her voice had fallen from its glad note. She
put out her hand, touching his coat sleeve timidly. It was the first
time she had ever touched him save in service. But if her touch brought
a thrill there was no> sign of it. Her voice dropped still lower, "What
are you thinking of?" she almost whispered.

The professor did not answer. Instead he turned to her with a sad
smile. (Very well done, too!)

Desire dropped her hand with a sharp exclamation. "Oh," she said, "I
forgot! You were thinking--"

The professor's smile smote her.

"Her eyes were blue like that!" he said.

Desire tripped over a fallen branch. And, when she recovered herself,
"Purple, do you mean?" she asked. "I have always thought purple eyes