row what he could do
to-day. (He considered that certain of the precepts instilled during
childhood were of admirable practical value). The best thing in life
was its morning: he did not like evening shadows and autumn twilights.
There was nothing that could compare with the sweetness and fineness
of the flavor of novelty. When it was practicable to take advantage
of one's impulses one had a brief draught of true philosopher's
happiness. And, at all events, this girl was a lady, high-born,
high-bred, intellectual, and unique. She was also plastic, and if she
had a somewhat too high-strung nature, love had been known to work
wonders before. He had mastered the difficult art of controlling
himself; he was not afraid of not being able to control any woman who
loved him. He went over to her and took her hands in his strong clasp.

"I have known you a very short--" he began, and then paused abruptly.

He had meant to speak calmly and not frighten her by the suddenness
of his love-making, but her touch fired him and sent the blood to his
head. He flung down her hands, and throwing his arms about her, kissed
her full on the mouth. The girl turned very white and tried to free
herself, but his arms were too strong, and in a moment she ceased to
resist. She made no attempt to define her feelings as Dartmouth had
done. She had felt the young man's remarkable magnetism the moment she
had met him: she had been aware of a certain prophetic instinct of it
some hours before, when he had stood in the window of a crowded cafe
above a crowded thoroughfare and speculatively returned her gaze.
And the night before, she had gone home with a very sharply outlined
consciousness that she would never again meet a man who would interest
her so deeply. To-day, this feeling had developed into one of strong
reciprocal sympathy, and he had exerted a psychological influence over
her as vaguely delightful as it was curious and painful. But all this
was no preparation for the sudden tumult of feeling which possessed
her under his kiss. She knew that it was love; and, that it had come
to her without warning, made the knowledge no less keen and sure.
Her first impulse was to resist, but purely out of that pride which
forbids a woman to yield too soon; and when his physical strength made
her powerless, she was glad that it should be so.

"Will you marry me?" he asked.

"Yes" she said; "I will marry you."

PART II.

THE DISCORD.

I.

Two