no reply, but merely fell into step at his side, he
inquired, after a moment's pause, "How did you enjoy the sermon?"

"Oh, I don't like to be preached at, and I'm sorry for Mr. Mullen's wife
if he expects her to ease everybody's pains in the parish. He looked
very handsome in church," she added, "didn't you think so?"

"I didn't notice," he answered ruefully. "I never pay any attention to
the way a man looks, in church or out of it."

"Well, I do--and even Judy Hatch does. She asked me the other day whom
I thought the handsomest man in the neighbourhood, and I'm sure she
expected me to say Mr. Mullen."

She dimpled, and his arm went out impulsively toward her.

"But you didn't, Molly?" he returned.

"Why, of course not--did you imagine that I should? I said I thought Mr.
Jonathan Gay was the best looking."

His arm fell to his side, and for a minute or two he walked on in
silence.

"I wish I didn't love you, Molly," he burst out at last. "I sometimes
almost believe that you're one of the temptresses Mr. Mullen preached
against this morning. I've tried again and again to tear you out of my
heart, but it is useless."

"Yes, it's useless, Abel," she answered, melting to dimples.

"I tell myself," he went on passionately, "that you're not worth
it--that you're perfectly heartless--that you're only a flirt--that
other men have held your hands, kissed your lips even---"

"And after telling yourself those dreadful truths, what happens?" she
inquired with interest.

"What happens? Well, I go to work and don't think of you for at least
three hours. Then, when I am dead tired I stop for a minute to rest, and
as soon as my eyes fall on a bit of green grass, or a flower growing by
the road, or the blue sky, there you are again, popping in between them
with your big eyes and your mouth that was made for kisses. I forget how
heartless and light you are, and remember only the times you've crept up
to me and put your hand on my arm and said, 'Abel, I'm sorry.' Most of
all I remember the one time you kissed me, Molly."

"Don't, Abel," she said quickly, and her voice broke and died in her
throat.

As he drew close to her, she walked faster until her steps changed into
a run.

"If you only knew me as I am, you wouldn't care so, Abel," she threw
back at him.

"I don't believe you know yourself as you are, Molly," he answered.
"It's not you that leads men on to make love to you and then throws them
over--as you have t