er own mind a chaos to herself. She stole a furtive
glance at his miserable face; something tender and compassionate and
strange made her lips quiver, but she set them closely.

"You would be making an awful sacrifice for me?"

He did not deny it.

"It would be an awful sacrifice for me, too."

"I know," he acquiesced sadly.

"Still--I suppose you ought to have your mind settled before to-morrow
or it will get on your game."

"Yes, that's just it! I'd be awfully grateful--"

Without any warning she began to laugh. "I think you are the funniest
boy in the world! I don't want to marry anybody. I want to live with
daddy and take care of him and be like Aunt Jean, but if I _have_ to
marry anybody, I'd rather marry you. Shall we let it go at that for the
present?"

"You are awfully good," cried the boy. He wondered at the extraordinary
calm, almost elation, of his mood. That he should be engaged to be
married and not be revolving suicide! He had read of the exaltation of
self-sacrifice--maybe this was it. But how hard it must be for her.

"I'll make it just as easy for you as I can--dear." He added the last
word very softly. Probably she didn't hear it, for she answered in her
ordinary tone, not in the least offended, that she knew he would, then
immediately demanded a sight of the mowing-machine; since it wasn't
there, he would better take her home.

"Don't you begin to love this island?" he said, as he obeyed her.

"It is lovely," she said: "I never thought I could really like any place
without mountains, but I do."

"I love mountains," said Willy.

"They were again surprised at their similarity of taste. Motor-cars and
carriages passed them continually; luxurious open vehicles, victorias
and golf-carts and automobiles with their hoods lowered, disclosing
billows of diaphanous feminine finery and pretty, uncovered girlish
heads. Willy marveled over his own ease as he returned greetings
punctiliously. A week ago he would have raced his horse into the darkest
woodland road to escape a passing salute, the hazard of a little casual
badinage.

"How pretty American girls are," said Lady Jean a little wistfully;
"such lovely wavy hair."

Willy's glance furtively took note of her sleek brown head and the heavy
braid between her slim shoulders, which had caused him to think her a
child.

"I don't much like this corrugated hair," said he carelessly; "it looks
so machine-made."

Lady Jean declined all proffers