e say what he thought. They moved about softly, and
then she gurgled that soft laugh that had entranced him from the first.
"What would people think?" she asked.

They walked to the railing, he still holding her hand, and then she
withdrew it. He was conscious of great danger--of jeopardizing a
wonderfully blissful relationship, and finally said: "Perhaps we had
better go."

"Yes," she said. "Ma-ma would be greatly disturbed if she knew this."

She walked ahead of him to the door.

"Good night," she whispered.

"Good night," he sighed.

He went back to his chair and meditated on the course he was pursuing.
This was a terrible risk. Should he go on? The flower-like face of
Suzanne came back to him--her supple body, her wondrous grace and
beauty. "Oh, perhaps not, but what a loss, what a lure to have flaunted
in front of his eyes! Were there ever thoughts and feelings like these
in so young a body? Never, never, never, had he seen her like. Never in
all his experiences had he seen anything so exquisite. She was like the
budding woods in spring, like little white and blue flowers growing. If
life now for once would only be kind and give him her!

"Oh, Suzanne, Suzanne!" he breathed to himself, lingering over the name.

For a fourth or a fifth time Eugene was imagining himself to be
terribly, eagerly, fearsomely in love.

CHAPTER VI

This burst of emotion with its tentative understanding so subtly
reached, changed radically and completely the whole complexion of life
for Eugene. Once more now the spirit of youth had returned to him. He
had been resenting all this while, in spite of his success, the passage
of time, for he was daily and hourly growing older, and what had he
really achieved? The more Eugene had looked at life through the medium
of his experiences, the more it had dawned on him that somehow all
effort was pointless. To where and what did one attain when one attained
success? Was it for houses and lands and fine furnishings and friends
that one was really striving? Was there any such thing as real
friendship in life, and what were its fruits--intense satisfaction? In
some few instances, perhaps, but in the main what a sorry jest most
so-called friendships veiled! How often they were coupled with
self-interest, self-seeking, self-everything! We associated in
friendship mostly only with those who were of our own social station. A
good friend. Did he possess one? An inefficient friend? Would on