d Cecil are forever rambling round, and she
knows how easily an interview can be spoiled. It will hardly be safe to
appoint one between here and Grandon Park. Down below the park there is
a little cove, with a splendid view opposite, and a grove of trees for
protection. She will appoint it here. Friday is unlucky. Saturday will
be busy for him, so it is settled for Monday of the next week, and he
agrees, with a peculiar smile and a pressure of the hand.

Marcia Grandon walks home in a state of triumph. Experience forbids her
to count upon this man as a positive lover, but he _is_ an admirer.
They have a disagreeable habit of going so far and then taking wing.
Marriage seems an event rather difficult of accomplishment, for with
all Marcia's flighty romance she shrinks from encountering actual
poverty, but it might be this man's admiration is sufficiently strong
to lead him beyond the debatable land. She hesitates just a little,
then solaces herself with the improbability.

Still, she is in a flutter of excitement when she goes up to her room
after luncheon. What shall she wear? Bonnets and hats are tried on, and
she passes and repasses before the glass to study the jauntiness or
attractiveness of different styles. Her dress is gray, and she finally
settles upon a light gray chip, with two long black plumes that almost
touch her shoulder. A cluster of pansies would be very effective at her
throat. Violet wears them a good deal, so she selects the finest in the
greenhouse, and takes a parasol with a lilac lining. She does look very
well. Before mourning, her taste was rather _bizarre_, but it has been
toned down somewhat.

Jasper Wilmarth is first on the spot. She has dallied so long with
toilet questions, that it has given the man's complacency a little
start, no bad thing. She catches a glimpse of him and is filled with
trepidation, for up to this moment she has not been quite sure but he
would _allow_ something to prevent.

He takes both hands. The consciousness goes over her that he _is_ a
lover. He is not a handsome man, with his high shoulders, short neck,
and rugged face, but to-day he has taken some pains, and lets his
steely eyes soften, his lips show their bit of red under the gray
mustache. His necktie is fresh, his clothes have been brushed, and if
the soul animating the man was even as good as the body it would be
better for all who come in contact with him.

He has resolved to try his utmost at fascinati