eriously. "I wish
you were."

Lester changed the subject. He really could not stand for this sort
of thing any more, he told himself. And as he thought his mind
wandered back to Jennie and her peculiar "Oh no, no!" There was
someone that appealed to him. That was a type of womanhood worth
while. Not sophisticated, not self-seeking, not watched over and set
like a man-trap in the path of men, but a sweet little
girl--sweet as a flower, who was without anybody, apparently, to
watch over her. That night in his room he composed a letter, which he
dated a week later, because he did not want to appear too urgent and
because he could not again leave Cincinnati for at least two
weeks.

"MY DEAR JENNIE, Although it has been a week, and I have said
nothing, I have not forgotten you--believe me. Was the impression
I gave of myself very bad? I will make it better from now on, for I
love you, little girl--I really do. There is a flower on my table
which reminds me of you very much--white, delicate, beautiful.
Your personality, lingering with me, is just that. You are the essence
of everything beautiful to me. It is in your power to strew flowers in
my path if you will.

"But what I want to say here is that I shall be in Cleveland on the
18th, and I shall expect to see you. I arrive Thursday night, and I
want you to meet me in the ladies' parlor of the Dornton at noon
Friday. Will you? You can lunch with me.

"You see, I respect your suggestion that I should not call. (I will
not--on condition.) These separations are dangerous to good
friendship. Write me that you will. I throw myself on your generosity.
But I can't take "no" for an answer, not now.

"With a world of affection.

"LESTER KANE."

He sealed the letter and addressed it. "She's a remarkable girl in
her way," he thought. "She really is."

CHAPTER XXI

The arrival of this letter, coming after a week of silence and
after she had had a chance to think, moved Jennie deeply. What did she
want to do? What ought she to do? How did she truly feel about this
man? Did she sincerely wish to answer his letter? If she did so, what
should she say? Heretofore all her movements, even the one in which
she had sought to sacrifice herself for the sake of Bass in Columbus,
had not seemed to involve any one but herself. Now, there seemed to be
others to consider--her family, above all, her child. The little
Vesta was now eighteen months of age; she was an interesting chil