ndered if he would ever speak at
all, while she was all the while putting him off, strange contradiction.

"Say that you love me. Just say it once and I will live on it for
weeks."

"Oh, Allin, you would grow thin!" She gave a little half-hysterical
laugh. And then something stole over her, an impression vague,
inexplicable, that she did not quite belong to herself. Was there
someone who had a better right than Allin? Before she gave herself
irrevocably to this delightful young lover, she must be sure, quite
sure.

"What is it, Primrose?" for he had noted the change, the almost paleness
that drowned out the beautiful, radiant flush that was happiness,
satisfaction.

"Oh, Primrose, surely you did not, do not love Captain Vane?"

There was a struggle in her soul, in her pulses, an unseen power that
grasped her and for a moment almost rendered her breathless.

"No, I did not--love him--but he----"

"Oh, I know. It is hard winning what everyone wants," he answered
moodily. "But tell me one good reason why you cannot love me."

As if there was no good reason she was silent.

"I really couldn't stand the uncertainty. I couldn't study. Oh, what
would it all be worth--life, fame, fortune, or anything if I did not
have you!"

"Do you love me as much as that. Would it make a great difference?"

"It would ruin all my life. It is in your hands. Oh, my darling!" For it
was so delightful to be necessary.

It was not foolish to the ears of eighteen when the heart of eighteen
had sometimes longed for the words. Good, sound sense is much amiss in
lovemaking.

"And you do love me--a little?"

If he could make her admit that he would coax a great deal more.

"I--I can't tell in a moment."

"But you know you do? Will you deny utterly that you do?"

She could evade with pretty turnings and windings, but this, so simple,
so to the point.

"Oh, wait," she cried. "I must think. Allin it is a lifelong thing. I
want to be sure----"

"And then you will smile on someone else, and walk with someone else and
dance and all that, and I shall be utterly miserable and never sure
until you do promise."

She put her hand over his, her soft dimpled hand that thrilled and
comforted him, and said in a beseeching tone, as if it was his to grant
or not:

"Give me a month, Allin. I will not smile on anyone, since you think it
so dangerous," with a touch of her old witchery.

"A month! As if you could not tell in a moment whether yo