need qualities
of self-direction, and those qualities would refuse to arise at her
command.

She did not fear Transley. She believed in him. She believed in his
ability to grapple with anything that stood in his way; to thrust it
aside, and press on. She respected the judgment of her father and her
mother, and both of them believed in Transley. He would succeed; he
would seize the opportunities this young country afforded and rise to
power and influence upon them. He would be kind, he would be generous.
He would make her proud of him. What more could she want?

That was just it. There were dark moments when she felt that surely
there must be something more than all this. She did not know what it
was--she could not analyze her thoughts or give them definite form--but
in these dark moments she feared that she was being tricked, that the
whole thing was a sham which she would discover when it was too late.
She did not suspect her mother, or her father, or Transley, one or all,
of being parties to this trick; she believed that they did not know it
existed. She herself did not know it existed. But the fear was there.

After a week she admitted, much against her will, that possibly Dennison
Grant had something to do with it. She had not seen him since she had
pressed his fingers and he had ridden away through the smoke-haze of the
South Y.D. She had dutifully tried to force him from her mind. But he
would not stay out of it. It was about that fact that her misgivings
seemed most to centre. When she would be thinking of Transley, and
wondering about the future, suddenly she would discover that she was not
thinking of Transley, but of Dennison Grant. These discoveries shocked
and humiliated her. It was an impossible position. She would throw Grant
forcibly out of her mind and turn to Transley. And then, in an unguarded
moment, Transley would fade from her consciousness, and she would know
again that she was thinking of Grant.

At length she allowed herself the luxury of thinking frankly about
Dennison Grant. It WAS a luxury. It brought her a secret happiness which
she was wholly at a loss to understand, but which was very delightful,
nevertheless. She amused herself with comparing Grant with Transley.
They had two points in common: their physical perfection and their
fearless, self-confident manner. With these exceptions they seemed to be
complete contradictions. The ambitious Transley worshipped success; the
philosophical