hy shouldn't people in love behave sensibly?"

"That's a very serious question," said Penelope gravely. "I couldn't
answer it," and she left him the embarrassment of supporting an inquiry
which she had certainly instigated herself. She seemed to have finally
recovered her own ease in doing this. "Do you admire our autumnal
display, Mr. Corey?"

"Your display?"

"The trees in the Square. WE think it's quite equal to an opening at
Jordan & Marsh's."

"Ah, I'm afraid you wouldn't let me be serious even about your maples."

"Oh yes, I should--if you like to be serious."

"Don't you?"

"Well not about serious matters. That's the reason that book made me
cry."

"You make fun of everything. Miss Irene was telling me last night
about you."

"Then it's no use for me to deny it so soon. I must give Irene a
talking to."

"I hope you won't forbid her to talk about you!"

She had taken up a fan from the table, and held it, now between her
face and the fire, and now between her face and him. Her little
visage, with that arch, lazy look in it, topped by its mass of dusky
hair, and dwindling from the full cheeks to the small chin, had a
Japanese effect in the subdued light, and it had the charm which comes
to any woman with happiness. It would be hard to say how much of this
she perceived that he felt. They talked about other things a while,
and then she came back to what he had said. She glanced at him
obliquely round her fan, and stopped moving it. "Does Irene talk about
me?" she asked. "I think so--yes. Perhaps it's only I who talk about
you. You must blame me if it's wrong," he returned.

"Oh, I didn't say it was wrong," she replied. "But I hope if you said
anything very bad of me you'll let me know what it was, so that I can
reform----"

"No, don't change, please!" cried the young man.

Penelope caught her breath, but went on resolutely,--"or rebuke you
for speaking evil of dignities." She looked down at the fan, now flat
in her lap, and tried to govern her head, but it trembled, and she
remained looking down. Again they let the talk stray, and then it was
he who brought it back to themselves, as if it had not left them.

"I have to talk OF you," said Corey, "because I get to talk TO you so
seldom."

"You mean that I do all the talking when we're--together?" She glanced
sidewise at him; but she reddened after speaking the last word.

"We're so seldom together," he pursued.

"I don't know w