esire to paint returned?"

"No."

"Do you know why?"

"Partly. I am up against a solid wall. There is no thoroughfare."

"Make one."

"Through the wall?"

"Straight through it."

"Ah, yes"--he murmured--"but what lies beyond?"

"It would spoil the pleasures of anticipation to know beforehand."

He turned to her: "You are good for me. Do you know it?"

"Querida said that, too. He said that I was an experience; and that all
good work is made up of experiences that concern it only indirectly."

"Do you like Querida?" he asked, curiously.

"Sometimes."

"Not always?"

"Oh, yes, always more or less. But sometimes"--she was silent, her dark
eyes dreaming, lips softly parted.

"What do you mean by that?" he inquired, carelessly.

"By what, Louis?" she asked, naively, interrupted in her day-dream.

"By hinting--that sometimes you like Querida--more than at others?"

"Why, I do," she said, frankly. "Besides, I don't hint things; I say
them." She had turned her head to look at him. Their eyes met in silence
for a few moments.

"You are funny about Querida," she said. "Don't you like him?"

"I have no reason to dislike him."

"Oh! Is it the case of Sabidius? '_Non amo te, Sabidi, nec possum dicere
quare!_'"

He laughed uneasily: "Oh, no, I think not.... You and he are such
excellent friends that I certainly ought to like him anyway."

But she remained silent, musing; and on the edge of her upcurled lip he
saw the faint smile lingering, then fading, leaving the oval face almost
expressionless.

So they drove past the one-story post office where a group of young
people stood awaiting the arrival of the stage with its battered mail
bags; past the stump-pond where Valerie had caught her first and only
fish, past a few weather-beaten farm houses, a white-washed church, a
boarding house or two, a village store, a watering-trough, and then
drove up to the wooden veranda where Rita rose from a rocker and came
forward with hand outstretched.

"Hello, Rita!" he said, giving her hand a friendly shake. "Why didn't
you drive down with Valerie?"

"I? That child would have burst into tears at such a suggestion."

"Probably," said Valerie, calmly: "I wanted him for myself. Now that
I've had him I'll share him."

She sprang lightly to the veranda ignoring Neville's offered hand with a
smile. A hired man took away the horse; a boy picked up his suit case
and led the way.

"I'll be back in a moment," he said to