u and I will talk it over after awhile," he suggested, with an
enigmatic smile.

This was terrible. Martie gave one startled look at Lydia, who had
compressed her mouth into a thin line of disapproval. Lydia was
obviously thinking of Cliff, who might come in later. Martie found
herself unable to think of Cliff.

They had coffee in the garden, in the still summer dusk. Teddy rioted
among the bushes, as alert and strategic as was his gray kitten. John
sat silent beside Martie, and whenever she glanced at him she met his
deep smile. Lydia preserved a forbidding silence, but Malcolm's
suspicions of his younger daughter were pleasantly diverted by the
novelist. Dean Silver was probing into the early history of the State.

"But there must have been silver and gold mines up as far as this,
then; aren't you in the gold belt?"

"In the year 1858," Malcolm began carefully, "a company was formed here
for the purpose of investigating the claims made by--"

John finished his coffee with a gulp, and walked across the dim grass
to Martie, and she rose without a word.

"Martie, isn't it Teddy's bedtime?" asked Lydia. John frowned faintly
at her.

"Can't you put him to bed?" he asked directly. Lydia's cool cheek
flushed.

"Why, yes--I will--" she answered confusedly. Martie called her thanks
over her shoulder as they walked away. She was reminded of the day she
had called on John at his office.

Quick and shaken, the beating of her heart bewildered her; she hardly
knew where they walked, or how they began to talk. The velvety summer
night was sweet with flowers; the moon would be late, but the sky was
high and dark, and thick with stars. In the silver glimmer the town
lights, and the dim eye of the dairy, far up on the range, burned red.
Children were shouting somewhere, and dogs barking; now and then the
other mingled noises were cut across by the clear, mellow note of a
motor car's horn.

They came to the lumber-yard by the river, and went in among the
shadowy piles of planks. The starry dome was arched, infinitely far and
yet friendly, above them; the air here was redolent of the clean wood.
From houses near by, but out of sight beyond the high wall, they heard
occasional voices: a child was called, a wire-door slammed. But they
were alone.

John was instantly all the acknowledged if not the accepted lover. Once
fairly inside the fence, she found her heart beating madly against his
own; as tall as he, she tried to deny