main of yours? And
shall we walk, or take the car? Father Anton says it is not far."

"We will walk then," decided Myrna.

It was the walk she had taken yesterday, at least it was the same as
far as the little bridge; and for that distance she walked beside her
father and the cure, chatting merrily, but there she loitered a little
behind them. Half impishly, half with a genuine impulse that she
rather welcomed than avoided, she told herself that it was quite unfair
to pass the little spot so indifferently. Was it not here that this
most bizarre of adventures had begun? She had stood here by the
railing, and he had stood there across on the other side, and--the red
leaped suddenly flaming into her cheeks. She had never looked at a man
like that before--no man had ever looked at her like that before! And
it had been spontaneous, instant, like a flash of fire that had lighted
up a dark and unknown pathway, which, in the momentary blaze of light,
was full of strange wonder; and which, because it was an unknown way,
and because the glimpse had shown so much in so brief an instant that
the brain fused all into confusion and nothing was concrete, resulted,
not in illuminating the way, but, the flash of light gone again, in
transforming the pathway only into a bewildering maze.

She laughed a little after a while, shaking her head. Such an absurd
fancy! But what an entrancing, alluring little fancy! Decidedly, it
would be a new sensation to be lost in a maze like that--for a time.
She would tire of it soon enough--the thrill probably would not even
last as long as she would want it to. No thrill ever did! She bit her
lip suddenly in pretty vexation. It was stupid of the man to go off
fishing! Had he done it to pique her? The idea! He certainly could
not have the temerity to imagine that it lay within his power to pique
her. The sunbonnet swung to and fro abstractedly from its ribbon
strings. Wasn't it strange that he had--piqued her!

She went on after her father and the cure. They were quite a way ahead
now, and she hastened to catch up with them. As she drew near, she
caught her father's words.

"... Peyre on the _Histoire Generale des Beaux-Arts_, Monsieur le Cure,
I recommend it to you heartily. It is a most comprehensive little
volume, embracing in a condensed form the story of the arts from the
time of the Egyptians down to the present day, and--"

Myrna, in spite of herself, laughed outright, a