e wanted her. Because of her strange
reading and philosophy, she was defying the world. She insisted that she
did not see how it would hurt her.

"But, my dear, you don't know life," said Eugene. "It will hurt you. It
will grind you to pieces in all places outside of New York. This is the
Metropolis. It is a world city. Things are not quite the same here, but
you will have to pretend, anyhow. It is so much easier."

"Can you protect me?" she asked significantly, referring to the
condition Angela pleaded. "I wouldn't want--I couldn't, you know, not
yet, not yet."

"I understand," he said. "Yes, I can, absolutely."

"Well, I want to think about it," she said again. "I prefer so much to
be honest about it. I would so much rather just tell mama, and then go
and do it. It would be so much nicer. My life is my own to do with as I
please. It doesn't concern anybody, not even mama. You know, if I want
to waste it, I may, only I don't think that I am doing so. I want to
live as I choose. I don't want to get married yet."

Eugene listened to her with the feeling that this was the most curious
experience of his life. He had never heard, never seen, never
experienced anything like it. The case of Christina Channing was
different. She had her art to consider. Suzanne had nothing of the sort.
She had a lovely home, a social future, money, the chance of a happy,
stable, normal life. This was love surely, and yet he was quite at sea.
Still so many favorable things had happened, consciously favorable, that
he was ready to believe that all this was intended for his benefit by a
kind, governing providence.

Angela had practically given in already. Why not Suzanne's mother?
Angela would not tell her anything. Mrs. Dale was not any stronger than
Angela apparently. Suzanne might be able to control her as she said. If
she was so determined to try, could he really stop her? She was
headstrong in a way and wilful, but developing rapidly and reasoning
tremendously. Perhaps she could do this thing. Who could tell? They came
flying back along lovely lanes where the trees almost swept their faces,
past green stretches of marsh where the wind stirred in ripples the tall
green cat grass, past pretty farm yards, with children and ducks in the
foreground, beautiful mansions, playing children, sauntering laborers.
All the while they were reassuring each other, vowing perfect affection,
holding each other close. Suzanne, as Angela had, loved to tak