t just to please me.
I think an awful lot of you, girl; so much that at times I'm afraid."

This time the girl smiled, quietly, very quietly.

"And I of you, Steve," she echoed. "Must I protest that?"

"No," swiftly, "not for an instant. I don't doubt, mind.... It's all that
cursed imagination of mine. I was only thinking of the future. If things
shouldn't come my way, shouldn't--I put it at the worst possible--if by
any chance I should remain a--failure such as I am now--you wouldn't
mind--would overlook--it wouldn't make any difference at all with you and
me, would it, Elice?"

"Steve, you mustn't say such things--mustn't, I say. It's morbid. I won't
listen."

"But tell me," passionately, "what I asked. I want to hear you say it. I
want to know."

For an instant the girl was silent, an instant that seemed minutes to the
expectant listener. For the second time she met him eye to eye.

"Whether or not you become famous as a writer," she said slowly, "won't
make any difference in the least. It's you I care for, Steve; you as you
are now and nothing more." The voice paused but the eyes did not shift.
"As for the future, Steve man, I can't promise nor can you. To do so
would be to lie, and I won't lie. I say I love you; you as you are. If
anything ever should come between us, should, I say--you suggested it
and--persist--it will be because of a change in you yourself." For the
second time she halted; then she smiled. "I think that's all there is to
say," she completed.

"All!" With a buoyancy unfeigned the man swung out of the hammock upon
his feet. "That's just the beginning. You're just getting under way,
Elice."

"No," peremptorily; "all--for the present at least. It's four o'clock of
the afternoon, you know, and the neighbors have eyes like--Look at the
sun shine!... You've scared away the wren too, and the brood is hungry.
Besides it's time to begin dinner. Cooks shouldn't be hindered ever." She
turned toward the door decisively. "You may stay if you don't bother
again," she smiled over her shoulder. "Meanwhile there's a new 'Life' and
a July 'Century,'--you know where," and with a final smile she was gone.

CHAPTER V

CERTAINTY

Four months had drifted by; again the University was in full swing.

Of an evening in late October at this time, in the common living-room
which joined the two private rooms in the suite occupied by himself and
Darley Roberts, Stephen Armstrong was alone. It was now ne