ion.

"Where is he?" they said. "That man whom you loved once? We were there
when he spoke to you. We saw you stand together by the attic window. We
never say, but we heard, we remember. And you cried for joy at night
afterwards. We never say. But we heard. We remember."

Rachel's secretary in the little room on the ground-floor was
interrupted by a tap at the door. Rachel came in laden with daffodils.
Their splendor filled the gray room.

"Would you mind having them?" she said, smiling, and laying them down by
her. "And would you kindly write a line to Jones telling him not to send
me daffodils again. They are a flower I particularly dislike."

* * * * *

"Rachel?"

"Hugh!"

"Don't you think it would be better if we were married immediately?"

"Better than what?"

"Oh, I don't know; better than breaking it off."

"You can't break it off now. I'm not a person to be trifled with. You
have gone too far."

"If you gave me half your attention, you would understand that I am only
expressing a wish to go a little further, but you have become so
frivolous since we have been engaged that I hardly recognize you."

"I suit myself to my company."

"Are you going to talk to me in that flippant manner when we are
married. I sometimes fear, Rachel, you don't look upon me with
sufficient awe. I foresee I shall have to be very firm when we are
married. When may I begin to be firm?"

"Are these such evil days, Hugh?"

"I am like Oliver Twist," he said. "I want more."

* * * * *

They were sitting together one afternoon in the fire-light in silence.
They often sat in silence together.

"A wise woman once advised me," said Rachel at last, "if I married,
never to tell my husband of any previous attachment. She said, Let him
always believe that he was the first

That ever burst
Into that silent sea.

I believe it was good advice, but it seems to me to have one
drawback--to follow it may be to tell a lie. It would be in my case."

Silence.

"I know that a lie and an adroit appeal to the vanity of man are
supposed to be a woman's recognized weapons. The same woman told me that
I might find myself mistaken in many things in this world, but never in
counting on the vanity of man. She said that was a reed which would
never pierce my hand. I don't think you are vain, Hugh."

"Not vain! Why, I am so conceited at the fact that you are going to
ma