e roses of paradise. And
I love you, Eve."

Mollie lowered her eyes and the long fringe of her lashes lay in a
burnished semi-circle on her cheek.

"I think," she said slowly, "that it must have been very delightful in
Eden. But we are not really there, you know--we are only playing that
we are. And it is time for me to go back. I must get the
breakfast--that sounds too prosaic for paradise."

Murray bent still closer.

"Before we remember that we are only playing at paradise, will you
kiss me, dear Eve?"

"You are very audacious," said Mollie coldly.

"We are in Eden yet," he urged. "That makes all the difference."

"Well," said Mollie. And Murray kissed her.

They had passed back over the fern path and were in the pasture before
either spoke again. Then Murray said, "We have left Eden behind--but
we can always return there when we will. And although we were only
playing at paradise, I was not playing at love. I meant all I said,
Mollie."

"Have you meant it often?" asked Mollie significantly.

"I never meant it--or even played at it--before," he answered. "I
did--at one time--contemplate the possibility of playing at it. But
that was long ago--as long ago as last night. I am glad to the core of
my soul that I decided against it before I met you, dear Eve. I have
the letter of decision in my coat pocket this moment. I mean to mail
it this afternoon."

"'Curiosity knows no gender,'" quoted Mollie.

"Then, to satisfy your curiosity, I must bore you with some personal
history. My parents died when I was a little chap, and my uncle
brought me up. He has been immensely good to me, but he is a bit of a
tyrant. Recently he picked out a wife for me--the daughter of an old
sweetheart of his. I have never even seen her. But she has arrived in
town on a visit to some relatives there. Uncle Dick wrote to me to
return home at once and pay my court to the lady; I protested. He
wrote again--a letter, short and the reverse of sweet. If I refused to
do my best to win Miss Mannering he would disown me--never speak to me
again--cut me off with a quarter. Uncle always means what he
says--that is one of our family traits, you understand. I spent some
miserable, undecided days. It was not the threat of disinheritance
that worried me, although when you have been brought up to regard
yourself as a prospective millionaire it is rather difficult to adjust
your vision to a pauper focus. But it was the thought of alienating
Uncle