rolled out
into the drive with her walking along the stone wall which commanded the
river northward toward Grant's Tomb. It occurred to him that they might
go to Claremont Inn for breakfast, and afterwards take a car
somewhere--he did not know quite where. Suzanne might be recognized. So
might he.

"What shall we do, sweet?" he asked, as the cool morning air brushed
their faces. It was a glorious day.

"I don't care," replied Suzanne. "I promised to be at the Almerdings
some time today, but I didn't say when. They won't think anything of it
if I don't get there till after dinner. Will Mrs. Witla call up mama?"

"I don't think so. In fact, I'm sure she won't." He was thinking of his
last conversation with Angela, when she said she would do nothing. "Is
your mother likely to call you up?"

"I think not. Mama doesn't usually bother when she knows where I am
going. If she does, they'll simply say I haven't come yet. Will
Mrs. Witla tell her, if she calls up there?"

"I think not," he said. "No, I'm sure she won't. Angela wants time to
think. She isn't going to do anything. She told me that this morning.
She's going to wait until she sees what I am going to do. It all depends
now on how we play our cards."

He strolled on, looking at the river and holding Suzanne's hand. It was
only a quarter to seven and the drive was comparatively empty.

"If she tells mama, it will make things very bad," said Suzanne
thoughtfully. "Do you really think she won't?"

"I'm sure she won't. I'm positive. She doesn't want to do anything yet.
It's too dangerous. I think she thinks that maybe I will come round. Oh,
what a life I've led! It seems like a dream, now that I have your love.
You are so different, so generous! Your attitude is so unselfish! To
have been ruled all these years in every little thing. This last trick
of hers!"

He shook his head woefully. Suzanne looked at his weary face, her own as
fresh as the morning.

"Oh, if I might only have had you to begin with!" he added.

"Listen, Eugene," said Suzanne. "You know I feel sorry for Mrs. Witla.
We shouldn't have done what we did last night, but you made me. You know
you will never listen to me, until it's too late. You're so headstrong!
I don't want you to leave Mrs. Witla unless you want to. You needn't for
me. I don't want to marry you; not now, anyhow. I'd rather just give
myself to you, if you want me to. I want time though, to think and plan.
If mama should hear tod