by the entire success of her casual tone, as she
explained, "Oh, he's an old friend of my aunt's, and he's been at the
house a good deal." She ventured to try herself further, and inquired
with a bright look of interest, "What do you think of his engagement
to your cousin Molly?"

He was petrified with astonishment. "_Molly_ engaged to _Morrison_!"
he cried. "We can't be talking about the same people. I mean _Felix_
Morrison the critic."

She felt vindicated by his stupefaction and liked him for it. "Why,
yes; hadn't you heard?" she asked, with an assumption of herself
seeing nothing surprising in the news.

"No, I hadn't, and I can't believe it now!" he said, blinking his
eyes. "I never heard such an insane combination of names in my life."
He went on, "What under the _sun_ does Molly want of Morrison!"

Sylvia was vexed with him for this unexpected view. He was not so
discerning as she had thought. She turned away and picked up her hat.
"We ought to be going on," she said, and as they walked she answered,
"You don't seem to have a very high opinion of Mr. Morrison."

He protested with energy. "Oh yes, I have. Quite the contrary, I think
him one of the most remarkable men I know, and one of the finest. I
admire him immensely. I'd trust his taste sooner than I would my own."

To this handsome tribute Sylvia returned, smiling, "The inference is
that you don't think much of Molly."

"I _know_ Molly!" he said simply. "I've known her and loved her ever
since she was a hot-tempered, imperious little girl--which is all she
is now. Engaged ... and engaged to Morrison! It's a plain case of
schoolgirl infatuation!" He was lost in wonder, uneasy wonder it
seemed, for after a period of musing he brought out: "They'll cut each
other's throats inside six months. Or Molly'll cut her own. What under
the sun was her grandfather thinking of?"

Sylvia said gravely, "Girls' grandfathers have such an influence in
their marriages."

He smiled a rueful recognition of the justice of her thrust and then
fell into silence.

The road did not climb up now, but led along the side of the mountain.
Through the dense woods the sky-line, first guessed at, then clearly
seen between the thick-standing tree-trunks, sank lower and lower.
"We are approaching," said Page, motioning in front of them, "the
jumping-off place." They passed from the tempered green light of the
wood and emerged upon a great windy plateau, carpeted thickly with
deep g