oke of your hat with
wild enthusiasm to Mrs. Austin Sunday? He said it was wonderful what a
difference a stylish hat made. Not that he meant, of course--Well, it's
lovely to be able to get what you want. Goodness knows, I wish I could."

The other laughed. "Oh, it's perfectly easy if you really want to," she
said, "it all depends on what you want, you know."

For the first week she moved in a kind of exaltation. It was partly that
her glass showed her a different woman: soft-eyed, with cheeks tinted
from the long, restless walks through the spring that was coming on with
every warm, greening day. The excitement of the letter hung over her.
She pictured her announcement, Fraeulein Mueller's amazed questions.

"'But--but I do not understand! You are not well?'

"'Perfectly, thank you.'

"'But I am perfectly satisfied: I do not wish to change. You are not
sick, then?'

"'Only of teaching, Fraeulein.'

"'But the instructorship--I was going to recommend--do not be alarmed;
you shall have it surely!'

"'You are very kind, but I have taught long enough.'

"'Then you do not find another position? Are you to be--'"

Always here her heart sank. Was she? What real basis had all this sweet,
disturbing dream? To write so to a man after seven years! It was not
decent. She grew satiric. How embarrassing for him to read such a letter
in the bosom of an affectionate, flaxen-haired family! At least, she
would never know how he really felt, thank Heaven. And what was left for
her then? To her own mind she had burned her bridges already. She was as
far from this place in fancy as if the miles stretched veritably between
them. And yet she knew no other life. She knew no other men. He was the
only one. In a flash of shame it came over her that a woman with more
experience would never have written such a letter. Everybody knew
that men forget, change, easily replace first loves. Nobody but such a
cloistered, academic spinster as she would have trusted a seven years'
promise. This was another result of such lives as they led--such
helpless, provincial women. Her resentment grew against the place. It
had made her a fool.

It was Sunday afternoon, and she had omitted, in deference to the day,
the short skirt and walking-hat of her weekday stroll. Sunk in accusing
shame, her cheeks flaming under her wide, dark hat, her quick step
more sweeping than she knew, her eyes on the ground, she just escaped
collision with a suddenly looming m