her beauty. It was the old talisman. He
covered her sweet lips with his own and she yielded feverishly.

"There now, eat your dough," she exclaimed when he let her go, pushing
it shamefacedly toward him. She was flustered--so much so that she
failed to jest about it. "What would Mrs. Witla think," she added, "if
she could see us?"

Eugene paused solemnly and listened. He was afraid of Angela.

"I've always liked this stuff, ever since I was a boy," he said in an
offhand way.

"So your mother said," replied Frieda, somewhat recovered. "Let me see
what you're painting." She came round to his side and he took her hand.
"I'll have to go now," she said wisely. "They'll be expecting me back."

Eugene speculated on the intelligence of girls--at least on
that of those he liked. Somehow they were all wise under these
circumstances--cautious. He could see that instinctively Frieda was
prepared to protect him and herself. She did not appear to be suffering
from any shock from this revelation. Rather she was inclined to make the
best of it.

He folded her in his arms again.

"You're the angel cake and the strawberries and the peaches and cream,"
he said.

"Don't!" she pleaded. "Don't! I have to go now."

And when he released her she ran quickly down the stairs, giving him a
swift, parting smile.

So Frieda was added to the list of his conquests and he pondered over it
gravely. If Angela could have seen this scene, what a storm there would
have been! If she ever became conscious of what was going on, what a
period of wrath there would be! It would be terrible. After her recent
discovery of his letters he hated to think of that. Still this bliss of
caressing youth--was it not worth any price? To have a bright, joyous
girl of eighteen put her arms about you--could you risk too much for it?
The world said one life, one love. Could he accede to that? Could any
one woman satisfy him? Could Frieda if he had her? He did not know. He
did not care to think about it. Only this walking in a garden of
flowers--how delicious it was. This having a rose to your lips!

Angela saw nothing of this attraction for some time. She was not
prepared yet to believe, poor little depender on the conventions as she
understood them, that the world was full of plots and counter-plots,
snares, pitfalls and gins. The way of the faithful and well-meaning
woman in marriage should be simple and easy. She should not be harassed
by uncertainty of affectio