h bordered with grass and under green budding
twigs. It came to a stile finally and looked out upon a stony green
field where some cows were pasturing.

"Oh, the spring! The spring!" exclaimed Eugene, and Suzanne answered:
"You know, Mr. Witla, I think we must be something alike in some ways.
That's just the way I feel."

"How do you know how I feel?"

"I can tell by your voice," she said.

"Can you, really?"

"Why, yes. Why shouldn't I?"

"What a strange girl you are!" he said thoughtfully. "I don't think I
understand you quite."

"Why, why, am I so different from everyone else?"

"Quite, quite," he said; "at least to me. I have never seen anyone quite
like you before."

CHAPTER V

It was after this meeting that vague consciousness came to Suzanne that
Mr. Witla, as she always thought of him to herself, was just a little
more than very nice to her. He was so gentle, so meditative, and withal
so gay when he was near her! He seemed fairly to bubble whenever he came
into her presence, never to have any cause for depression or gloom such
as sometimes seized on her when she was alone. He was always
immaculately dressed, and had great affairs, so her mother said. They
discussed him once at table at Daleview, and Mrs. Dale said she thought
he was charming.

"He's one of the nicest fellows that comes here, I think," said Kinroy.
"I don't like that stick, Woodward."

He was referring to another man of about Eugene's age who admired his
mother.

"Mrs. Witla is such a queer little woman," said Suzanne. "She's so
different from Mr. Witla. He's so gay and good-natured, and she's so
reserved. Is she as old as he is, mama?"

"I don't think so," said Mrs. Dale, who was deceived by Angela's
apparent youth. "What makes you ask?"

"Oh, I just wondered!" said Suzanne, who was vaguely curious concerning
things in connection with Eugene.

There were several other meetings, one of which Eugene engineered, once
when he persuaded Angela to invite Suzanne and her mother to a spring
night revel they were having at the studio, and the other when he and
Angela were invited to the Willebrands, where the Dales were also.

Angela was always with him. Mrs. Dale almost always with Suzanne. There
were a few conversations, but they were merely gay, inconsequent
make-believe talks, in which Suzanne saw Eugene as one who was forever
happy. She little discerned the brooding depths of longing that lay
beneath his gay exterior.