it."

She tossed her head in an exquisitely pretty way which upset Eugene's
reasoning faculties. He could not think and look at her.

"Suzanne," he said, drawing her to him. "You are exquisite, extreme, the
last word in womanhood for me. To think of your reasoning so--you,
Suzanne."

"Why, why," she asked, with pretty parted lips and uplifted eyebrows,
"why shouldn't I think?"

"Oh, yes, certainly, we all do, but not so deeply, necessarily, Flower
Face."

"Well, we must think now," she said simply.

"Yes, we must think now," he replied; "would you really share a studio
with me if I were to take one? I don't know of any other way quite at
present."

"I would, if I knew how to manage it," she replied. "Mama is queer.
She's so watchful. She thinks I'm a child and you know I am not at all.
I don't understand mama. She talks one thing and does another. I would
rather do and not talk. Don't you think so?" He stared. "Still, I think
I can fix it. Leave it to me."

"And if you can you'll come to me?"

"Oh, yes, yes," exclaimed Suzanne ecstatically, turning to him all at
once and catching his face between her hands. "Oh!"--she looked into his
eyes and dreamed.

"But we must be careful," he cautioned. "We musn't do anything rash."

"I won't," said Suzanne.

"And I won't, of course," he replied.

They paused again while he watched her.

"I might make friends with Mrs. Witla," she observed, after a time. "She
likes me, doesn't she?"

"Yes," said Eugene.

"Mama doesn't object to my going up there, and I could let you know."

"That's all right. Do that," said Eugene. "Oh, please do, if you can.
Did you notice whose name I used today?"

"Yes," she said. "You know Mr. Witla, Eugene, I thought you might call
me up?"

"Did you?" he asked, smiling.

"Yes."

"You give me courage, Suzanne," he said, drawing close to her. "You're
so confident, so apparently carefree. The world hasn't touched your
spirit."

"When I'm away from you, though, I'm not so courageous," she replied.
"I've been thinking terrible things. I get frightened sometimes."

"But you mustn't, sweet, I need you so. Oh, how I need you."

She looked at him, and for the first time smoothed his hair with her
hand.

"You know, Eugene, you're just like a boy to me."

"Do I seem so?" he asked, comforted greatly.

"I couldn't love you as I do if you weren't."

He drew her to him again and kissed her anew.

"Can't we repeat these rides every fe