ure in the back of your mind all the time," Fred
began, "and I have it in mine. I'm not going to try to carry you off, as
I might another girl. If you wanted to quit me, I couldn't hold you, no
matter how many times you had married me. I don't want to overpersuade
you. But I'd like mighty well to get you down to that jolly old city,
where everything would please you, and give myself a chance. Then, if
you thought you could have a better time with me than without me, I'd
try to grab you before you changed your mind. You are not a sentimental
person."

Thea drew her veil down over her face. "I think I am, a little; about
you," she said quietly. Fred's irony somehow hurt her.

"What's at the bottom of your mind, Thea?" he asked hurriedly. "I can't
tell. Why do you consider it at all, if you're not sure? Why are you
here with me now?"

Her face was half-averted. He was thinking that it looked older and more
firm--almost hard--under a veil.

"Isn't it possible to do things without having any very clear reason?"
she asked slowly. "I have no plan in the back of my mind. Now that I'm
with you, I want to be with you; that's all. I can't settle down to
being alone again. I am here to-day because I want to be with you
to-day." She paused. "One thing, though; if I gave you my word, I'd keep
it. And you could hold me, though you don't seem to think so. Maybe I'm
not sentimental, but I'm not very light, either. If I went off with you
like this, it wouldn't be to amuse myself."

Ottenburg's eyes fell. His lips worked nervously for a moment. "Do you
mean that you really care for me, Thea Kronborg?" he asked unsteadily.

"I guess so. It's like anything else. It takes hold of you and you've
got to go through with it, even if you're afraid. I was afraid to leave
Moonstone, and afraid to leave Harsanyi. But I had to go through with
it."

"And are you afraid now?" Fred asked slowly.

"Yes; more than I've ever been. But I don't think I could go back. The
past closes up behind one, somehow. One would rather have a new kind of
misery. The old kind seems like death or unconsciousness. You can't
force your life back into that mould again. No, one can't go back." She
rose and stood by the back grating of the platform, her hand on the
brass rail.

Fred went to her side. She pushed up her veil and turned her most
glowing face to him. Her eyes were wet and there were tears on her
lashes, but she was smiling the rare, whole-hearted smile h