e looked over twenty. He marveled at how delicately feminine
her forehead and nose were. And the lips--he could not look very long
at her lips. Warm and full of curves, they tugged at his heart. They
roused desire. Yet, had it been his blessed privilege to touch them
with his own, he would have been very gentle about it. A man must
needs always be gentle with her, he thought.

That was why he must not utter the phrases that burned within. It
would only frighten her, and he must see that she was never frightened
again. To himself he might say as much as he pleased, because she
could not hear. He could repeat to himself over and over again, as he
did now, "I love you--I love you--I love you."

Out loud, however, he said only:--

"Are you tired?"

She started even at that.

"No, Monte," she answered.

"We can rest any time you wish. We have all the time in the world
ahead of us."

"Have we?"

"Days and weeks and months," he replied.

It was the old Monte she heard--the easy, care-free Monte. It made her
feel easier.

"We should cross the border by to-morrow night, should n't we?" she
asked.

"We could, if it were necessary," he admitted.

She quickened her pace unconsciously.

"I think we should get there as soon as possible."

"That," he said, "would be like hurrying through Eden."

She ventured to glance up at him. With his lean, strong face to the
sun, his lithe body swinging rhythmically to his stride, he looked like
an Indian chieftain. So he would have stalked through virgin forests.
So, under different conditions, she might have been following his lead.
But conditions were as they were. That is what she must keep in mind.
He was here merely to escort her safely to Italy and to the steamer in
which she was soon to sail for home. He was being decent to her, as
under the same conditions he would be to any woman. He could scarcely
do less than he was doing. She was forced upon him.

That he apparently took pleasure in the episode was natural enough. It
was just the sort of experience he enjoyed. It was another pleasant
excursion like the motor trip from Paris, with a touch of adventure
added to give it spice. Possibly in his present mood there was also a
trace of romance. Monte had his romantic side, based upon his quick
sympathies. A maiden in distress was enough to rouse this. That was
what happened yesterday when he told her of his love. He had been
sincere enough for the