d her brother
to dinner on several occasions; the remainder of the family had not
arrived yet. In return he was invited to breakfast, to lunch and dinner
at the bungalow.

Christina showed on his arrival that she had planned to be with him
alone as much as possible, for she suggested that they make expeditions
to High Hill, to Bold Face, and The Chimney--three surrounding
mountains. She knew of good hotels at seven, ten, fifteen miles distance
to which they could go by train, or else they drive and return by
moonlight. She had selected two or three secluded spots in thickets and
groves where the trees gave way to little open spaces of grass, and in
these they would string a hammock, scatter their books of verse about
and sit down to enjoy the delights of talk and love-making.

Under the influence of this companionship, under cloudless skies and in
the heart of the June weather, Christina finally yielded to an
arrangement which brought Eugene into a relationship which he had never
dreamed possible with her. They had progressed by degrees through all
the subtleties of courtship. They had come to discuss the nature of
passion and emotion, and had swept aside as negligible the conviction
that there was any inherent evil in the most intimate relationship. At
last Christina said frankly:

"I don't want to be married. It isn't for me--not until I've thoroughly
succeeded, anyhow. I'd rather wait--If I could just have you and
singleness too."

"Why do you want to yield yourself to me?" Eugene asked curiously.

"I don't know that I exactly want to. I could do with just your love--if
you were satisfied. It's you that I want to make happy. I want to give
you anything you want."

"Curious girl," observed her lover, smoothing her high forehead with his
hand. "I don't understand you, Christina. I don't know how your mind
works. Why should you? You have everything to lose if worst came to
worst."

"Oh, no," she smiled. "I'd marry you then."

"But to do this out of hand, because you love me, because you want me to
be happy!" he paused.

"I don't understand it either, honey boy," she offered, "I just do."

"But why, if you are willing to do this, you wouldn't prefer to live
with me, is what I don't understand."

She took his face between her hands. "I think I understand you better
than you do yourself. I don't think you'd be happy married. You might
not always love me. I might not always love you. You might come to
regret.