ther said that if you don't
have cash you go without, when as a matter of fact it's when you have
cash you go without."

She lowered her eyes to his. What he was saying sounded topsy-turvy.

"It's a fact," he ran on. "Why, you can get hungry if you don't have
too much money; and, honest, I've had better things to eat this
summer, because of that, than I ever had in my life. Then, if you
don't have too much money, you can work. It sounds strange to say
there's any fun in that, but there is. I want to get you into the
game, Frances. You're going to like it. Farnsworth is going to let me
sell next month. It's like making the 'Varsity. I'm going to have a
salary and commission, so you see it will be partly a personal fight.
You can help me. Why, the very things we were planning to get done
with before we married are the very things that are worth while. We
can stand shoulder to shoulder now and play the game together. You can
have part of the fun."

She thrilled with the magic of his voice, but his words were quite
meaningless.

"You aren't looking at the stars," he reminded her. She looked up
again.

"So," he said, "there's no sense in waiting any longer, is there? The
sooner we're married, the sooner we can begin. If we're married
to-morrow, we'll have almost two weeks in the mountains. And then--"

She appeared frightened.

"Oh, Don, we--we couldn't get married like that, anyway."

"Why not?" he demanded.

"It--it isn't possible."

"Certainly it's possible."

She shook her head.

"No, no. I--I couldn't. Oh, Don, you'll have to give me time to
think."

"There isn't time," he frowned.

"We must take time. I'm--I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid of myself," she answered quickly. "Afraid of Dad. Oh, I'm
afraid of every one."

"Of me?" He took her hand.

"When you speak of to-morrow I am," she admitted. "While you were
talking, there were moments when--when I could do as you wish. But
they didn't last."

"That's because you didn't keep your eyes on the stars," he assured
her gently.

"That's what I'm afraid of--that I shouldn't be able to keep them
there. Don, dear, you don't know how selfish I am and--and how many
things I want."

She was seeing herself clearly now and speaking from the depths of her
soul.

"Maybe it isn't all my fault. And you're wonderful, Don. It's that
which makes me see myself."

He kissed her hand. "Dear you," he whispered, "I know the woman 'way
down deep in y