ks," he said. "I
mean not at all. I'd rather not."

"Aren't you well, George?" Eugene asked, looking at him in perplexity.
"Have you been overworking at college? You do look rather pa--"

"I don't work," said George. "I mean I don't work. I think, but I don't
work. I only work at the end of the term. There isn't much to do."

Eugene's perplexity was little decreased, and a tinkle of the door-bell
afforded him obvious relief. "It's my foreman," he said, looking at his
watch. "I'll take him out in the yard to talk. This is no place for a
foreman." And he departed, leaving the "living room" to Lucy and George.
It was a pretty room, white panelled and blue curtained--and no place
for a foreman, as Eugene said. There was a grand piano, and Lucy stood
leaning back against it, looking intently at George, while her fingers,
behind her, absently struck a chord or two. And her dress was the dress
for that room, being of blue and white, too; and the high colour in
her cheeks was far from interfering with the general harmony of
things--George saw with dismay that she was prettier than ever, and
naturally he missed the reassurance he might have felt had he been able
to guess that Lucy, on her part, was finding him better looking than
ever. For, however unusual the scope of George's pride, vanity of beauty
was not included; he did not think about his looks.

"What's wrong, George?" she asked softly.

"What do you mean: 'What's wrong?"

"You're awfully upset about something. Didn't you get though your
examination all right?"

"Certainly I did. What makes you think anything's 'wrong' with me?"

"You do look pale, as papa said, and it seemed to me that the way you
talked sounded--well, a little confused."

"Confused'! I said I didn't care to smoke. What in the world is confused
about that?"

"Nothing. But--"

"See here!" George stepped close to her. "Are you glad to see me?"

"You needn't be so fierce about it!" Lucy protested, laughing at his
dramatic intensity. "Of course I am! How long have I been looking
forward to it?"

"I don't know," he said sharply, abating nothing of his fierceness. "How
long have you?"

"Why--ever since you went away!"

"Is that true? Lucy, is that true?"

"You are funny!" she said. "Of course it's true. Do tell me what's the
matter with you, George!"

"I will!" he exclaimed. "I was a boy when I saw you last. I see that
now, though I didn't then. Well, I'm not a boy any longer. I'm a man,