hoped for, and before the middle of summer he found himself
not only well launched in his profession, but with all that he could
possibly find time to do, and work piling up ahead of him, so that he
could only promise indefinitely when the Ramseys urged him to come down
to their Newport place, and Leonora had to put up with fractions of
Sundays until she and her mother left for Bar Harbor.

There were times when that young lady was by no means certain that she
wished to marry a successful physician. "You wouldn't like me any better
if I were unsuccessful?" he asked teasingly, but she came back to her
point, and he had to explain gravely that the theories of the laboratory
must be worked out in actual practice before they can be transmuted into
accepted facts.

"But you don't need the money," she argued, trying dimly to apply some
of the principles which he was fond of expounding. It seemed rather
hopeless, but with infinite patience he sought to make clear to her that
any human being whose life is not to be useless and profitless must
have some object to attain, some work to do which will develop his
character. When she replied that he had character enough, and her only
object in life was to be his wife, what more was there to say? Flattery
at once so charming and so complete left him defenseless, and he kissed
her and went away, trying not to ask himself whether a legal ceremony
could ever make wedded souls of two mortals of such diverse views of
life. And yet, she was so sweet, so sweet!

In spite of the many other demands upon his time, Dr. Earl saw his first
patient very frequently. Mrs. Bell did not appear cramped for means, and
provided everything that could add to her little daughter's comfort,
including not a few luxuries, which Dr. Earl felt convinced were the
gift of Miss Holland. If he had vaguely hoped that he might meet her at
his patient's he was destined to disappointment. Once her car arrived
just as he was leaving, and another time they passed on the stairs. He
told himself that it was better so, and yet when he took her hand, and
felt the firm, strong fingers, well-knit and efficient, for no soft,
yielding little five-and-a-half glove-wearer ever compassed Beethoven,
he knew that hers was a nature that could answer to his own, and his
hand tightened involuntarily. There was something in his look as he met
the blue eyes on the step above that brought the warm blood to her face,
and she swayed toward