change meant that life was swiftly sweeping one on.

He turned from that too somber thinking to Amy, watched her as she
talked with Mrs. Lawrence. They too were talking of Freeport people and
affairs, the older woman bringing Amy into the current of life there.
His heart warmed a little to Edith's mother for being so gracious to
Amy, though, that did not keep him from marveling at how she could be
both so warm and so hard--so loving within the circle of her approval,
so unrelenting out beyond it.

Amy would make friends, he was thinking, lovingly proud. How could it be
otherwise when she was so lovely and so charming? She looked so slim, so
very young, in that white dress she was wearing. Well, and she was
young, little older now than these girls had been when they really were
"the girls." That bleak sense of life as going by fell away; here _was_
life--the beautiful life he was to have with Amy. He watched the breeze
play with her hair and his whole heart warmed to her in the thought of
the happiness she brought him, in his gratitude for what love made of
life. He forgot his resentment about Ruth, forgot the old bitterness and
old hurt that had just been newly stirred in him. Life had been a lonely
thing for a number of years after Ruth went away. He had Amy now--all
was to be different.

They all stood at the head of the steps for a moment as he and Amy were
bidding the others goodnight. They talked of the tea Edith was to give
for Amy the following week--what Amy would wear--how many people there
would be. "And let me pick you up and take you to the tea tomorrow,"
Edith was saying. "It will be small and informal--just Cora's old
friends--and then you won't have so many strangers to meet next week."

He glowed with new liking of Edith, felt anew that sweetness in her
nature that, after her turning from Ruth, had not been there for him.
Looking at her through this new friendliness he was thinking how
beautifully she had developed. Edith was a mother now, she had two
lovely children. She was larger than in her girlhood; she had indeed
flowered, ripened. Edith was a sweet woman, he was thinking.

"I do think they're the kindest, most beautiful people!" Amy exclaimed
warmly as they started slowly homeward through the fragrant softness of
the May night.

CHAPTER TWO

He had known that Amy would ask, and wondered a little at her waiting so
long. It was an hour later, as she sat before her dressing-table
brus