dventures, don't you?"

"Yes," said Michael, and looked down into her face.

She was extremely pretty, he thought, in the soft dusk of this Northern
evening. Her leghorn hat with its wreath of blue forget-me-nots was most
becoming and her brown hair was ruffled a little by the hat's hasty
donning.

[Illustration: "He bounded forward to meet her"]

"I needn't keep this old cloak on, need I?" she asked. "Nobody can see
us here and it is so hot."

He helped her off with it and carried it for her. She looked prettier
still now, the slender lines of her childish figure were so exquisite in
their promise of beautiful womanhood later on, and the Sunday frock of
white foulard was most sweet.

Michael was very silent; it almost made her nervous, but she prattled
on.

"This is my best frock," she laughed, "because even though it is only a
business arrangement, one couldn't get married in an old blouse, could
one?"

"Of course not!" and he strode nearer to her. "I am in evening dress,
you see--just like a French bridegroom for those wedding parties in the
Bois! so we are both festive--but here we are at the postern door!"

He opened it with his key and they stole across the short lawn and up
the balcony steps like two stealthy marauders. Then he turned and held
out his hand to her in the blaze of electric light.

"Welcome! Oh! it is good of you to have come!"

She shook hands frankly--it seemed the right thing to do, she felt,
since they were going to oblige one another and both gain their desires.
Then it struck her for the first time that he was a very handsome young
man--quite the Prince Charming of the girls' dreams. A thousand times
finer than Moravia's Italian prince with whom for her part she had been
horribly disappointed when she had seen his photograph. Only it was too
silly to consider this one in that light, since he wasn't really going
to be hers--only a means to an end. Oh! the pleasure to be free and rich
and to do exactly what she pleased! She had been planning all these days
what she would do. She would get back to the Inn not later than ten, and
creep quietly up to her room through that side door which was always
open into the yard. The weather was so beautiful it would be nothing,
even if the Inn people did see her entering--she might have been out for
a stroll in the twilight. Then at six in the morning she would creep out
again and go to the station; there was a train which left for Edinburgh
at