trifling with something which is still asleep in you--with all that is
weak and ignoble. It is there--it is in all of us--in you, too. Don't
rouse it; it is still asleep--merely a little restless in its
slumber--but, oh, Geraldine! Geraldine!--if you ever awake it!--if you
ever arouse it to its full, fierce consciousness----"

"I won't," said the girl hastily. "Oh, I won't, I won't, Kathleen,
darling. I do know it's in me--I feel that if I ever let myself go I
could be reckless and wicked. But truly, truly, I won't. I--darling, you
mustn't cry--please, don't--because you are making me cry. I cried in my
sleep, too.... I ought to be very happy--" She forced a laugh through
the bright tears fringing her lashes, bent forward swiftly, kissed
Kathleen, and sprang from the bed.

"I want my bath and breakfast!" she cried. "If I'm to be a Louis XVI
doll this week, it's time my face was washed and my sawdust reinforced.
Do fix my tray, dear, while I'm in the bath--and ring for my maid....
And when you go down you may tell Duane to wait for me on the stairs.
It's good discipline; he'll find it stupid because I'll be a long
time--but, oh, Kathleen, it is perfectly heavenly to bully him!"

* * * * *

Later she sent a note to him by her maid:

"TO THE ONLY MAN IN THE WORLD,
ON THE STAIRS.

"_Patient Sir_: If you will go to the large beech-tree beyond
Hurryon Gate and busy yourself by carving upon it certain initials
intertwined within the circumscribed outlines of a symbol popularly
supposed to represent a human heart, your industry will be
presently and miraculously rewarded by the apparition of her who
presumably occupies no inconsiderable place in your affections."

At the Hurryon Gate Duane found Rosalie trying to unlock it, a dainty,
smiling Rosalie, fresh as a blossom, and absurdly like a schoolgirl with
her low-cut collar, snowy neck, and the thick braid of hair. Under her
arm she carried her bathing-dress.

"I'm going for a swim; I nearly perished with the heat last night....
Did you sleep well, Duane?"

"Rather well."

She hesitated, looked up: "Are you coming with me?"

"I have an appointment."

"Oh!... Are you going to let me go alone?"

He laughed: "I've no choice; I really have an appointment this morning."

She inspected him, drew a step nearer, laid both hands lightly on his
shoulders.

"Duane, dear," she said, "are you really going