es, "have you ever for one minute
been sorry that you gave up your work for--for--the sake of--love?"

"No." Grace shook a decided head. Inwardly she wondered a little at the
question. "It took me a long time to come to a decision, though," she
added frankly.

"Would you mind telling me about it?" Arline flushed as she made the
request. "Please don't think me prying, but--" She hesitated. "Well, I
have a strong reason for asking. It would help me, I think, if you cared
to give me your confidence."

For a moment Grace made no response. Aside from her most intimate
Oakdale friends and Emma Dean she had never divulged to any one else the
story of that last year of struggle against love which had ended in her
unconditional surrender to it. To her it was as something bitter-sweet,
to be locked in her memory for all time. Yet the wistfulness of Arline's
appeal touched her deeply.

"I am willing to tell you about it," she said slowly. "You know, of
course, that Tom Gray and I had known each other almost from childhood.
We grew up together as good comrades. We were always together during
vacations with our six other friends. His aunt, Mrs. Gray, whom you
know, was fond of having us with her. It never entered my head that Tom
cared for me in more than a friendly way, until I came home from Overton
at the end of my junior year. When I began to understand that he really
loved me, I didn't like it at all. As I grew older I liked the idea
still less. I wanted to work; not marry Tom. He asked me to marry him
the next winter, but I said 'no,' After that I kept on saying 'no,' and
last winter we threshed the matter out soon after Anne's wedding.

"I felt very well pleased with myself for a while. Then things went
wrong at Overton and Tom joined a naturalist on an expedition to South
America. Right then it came to me that I had suddenly met with a
dreadful loss. I tried to make myself believe that I didn't care. While
I was at home during the Easter vacation I woke up. But it was too late.
I went back to Overton, but I wasn't happy. He had often told me that
there would come a time when not even my work could crowd out love. I
knew that the time had come. I had had some trouble with Miss Wharton,
the dean, and expecting to be asked to resign my position at Harlowe
House. I resigned of my own accord. It was Kathleen West who
straightened out that tangle for me. She sent for Miss Wilder, who
happened to be coming home just at that ti