ou move to San Francisco, as
I am convinced you will, and have many other resources----propinquity
is all there is to ninth-tenths of what we call love----and then a
little more kills it! Even if I were under the same delusion as you are
I should not yield to it."

"I do love you," he said, as slowly and clearly as he was capable of
enunciating. But his voice was hoarse, and she was sensible, without
turning her head, that he was rigid. "It is different--quite different.
I am willing to wait, however. I understand your hesitation. When I
return--"

"Doubt of the reality of your--well--"

"Love," said Gwynne, grimly.

But Isabel could not bring herself to utter the word. "One way or the
other, it does not alter my determination not to marry."

"Let that rest for a while. What I want to know is, could you--do you
love me?"

"Oh, I don't know! I only know I don't want to. You have a tremendous
influence--you have made every one else seem commonplace and
uninteresting--I have resented very much your neglect this last month. I
am willing to tell you all this--also, that I have dreamed, imagined
myself in love with you. But I am convinced that if you let me alone I
shall get over it."

"I have no intention of letting you alone."

She moved backward suddenly, and he laughed. "I wouldn't touch you with
a forty-foot pole," he said, roughly, "unless you wanted me. That,
perhaps, shows how far gone I am. But precious little you know about
men. Or yourself. If I kissed you this minute you would succumb--"

He turned suddenly and was down the hall and had slammed the kitchen
door behind him before she realized that she was actually alone, that he
meant to leave the house. For a moment she clutched the edge of the
mantel-piece in a passion of relief and regret. Then her femininity was
swept aside by her hospitable instinct and vehement fear. She ran down
the hall and into the kitchen. But even his rain garments and boots were
gone. She opened the back door and peered out into the inky darkness. A
light was moving in the stable. The rain was falling in a flood and the
wind almost drove her backward. But she gathered up her gown and ran as
fast as she could make headway to the stable. He was alone, and
tightening his horse's saddle-girths by the light of a dark lantern. He
gave her a bare glance and went on with his work.

"You must not go!" She was forced to scream. "You shall not. Why, you
are mad. The marsh--such conven