me. I've been away for two years,
and I've lost track of some of these people."

"I'm worse yet. I've only been here two weeks and I scarcely know
anybody. Mrs. King takes me around everywhere, but it's all so new I
can't get hold of it. I think Alexandria is lovely."

"It is nice. I suppose you've been out on the lakes?"

"Oh, yes. We've fished and rowed and camped. I have had a lovely time
but I have to go back tomorrow."

"Do you?" said Eugene. "Why I do too. I'm going to take the
four-fifteen."

"So am I!" she laughed. "Perhaps we can go together."

"Why, certainly. That's fine. I thought I'd have to go back alone. I
only came down for over Sunday. I've been working up in Chicago."

They fell to telling each other their histories. She was from Blackwood,
only eighty-five miles from Chicago, and had lived there all her life.
There were several brothers and sisters. Her father was evidently a
farmer and politician and what not, and Eugene gleaned from stray
remarks that they must be well thought of, though poor. One
brother-in-law was spoken of as a banker; another as the owner of a
grain elevator; she herself was a school teacher at Blackwood--had been
for several years.

Eugene did not realize it, but she was fully five years older than
himself, with the tact and the superior advantage which so much
difference in years brings. She was tired of school-teaching, tired of
caring for the babies of married sisters, tired of being left to work
and stay at home when the ideal marrying age was rapidly passing. She
was interested in able people, and silly village boys did not appeal to
her. There was one who was begging her to marry him at this moment, but
he was a slow soul up in Blackwood, not actually worthy of her nor able
to support her well. She was hopefully, sadly, vaguely, madly longing
for something better, and as yet nothing had ever turned up. This
meeting with Eugene was not anything which promised a way out to her.
She was not seeking so urgently--nor did she give introductions that
sort of a twist in her consciousness. But this young man had an appeal
for her beyond anyone she had met recently. They were in sympathetic
accord, apparently. She liked his clear, big eyes, his dark hair, his
rather waxen complexion. He seemed something better than she had known,
and she hoped that he would be nice to her.

CHAPTER VIII

The rest of that evening Eugene spent not exactly with, but near Miss
Blu