ed upon the supposition that she was safe beyond
the reach of recall, and she made haste to retract.

"Yes, do!" she said, tragically; "make me go down on my knees and beg
you not to--I'll do it, if you insist. How was I to know that you were
only trying to humiliate me?"

The swift little recantation gave Brockway a glimpse into her
personality which was exceedingly precious while it lasted. A man may
fall in love with a sweet face on slight provocation and without
preliminaries, but he knows little of the height and depth of passion
until association has taught him. But love of the instantaneous variety
has this to commend it, that its demands are modest and based upon
things visible. Wherefore, certain small excellences of character in the
subject, brought to light by a better acquaintance, come in the nature
of so many ecstatic little surprises.

That is the man's point of view. The woman takes the excellences for
granted, and if they are lacking, one of two things may happen: a great
smashing of ideals, or an attack of heavenly blindness. Gertrude was of
the tribe of those who go blind; and deep down in her heart she rejoiced
in Brockway's audacity. Hence it was only for form's sake that she said,
"How was I to know that you were only trying to humiliate me?"

"I humiliate you!" he repeated, quite aghast at the bare suggestion.
"Not knowingly, you may be very sure. But about the telegram; you are
not angry with me because I was desperate enough to answer it without
having first shown it to you?"

"I said I was, and so I must be. But I don't see how you could have done
otherwise--not after you had promised not to let anything interfere. Do
you think Mr. Burton had a telegram, too?"

"I was just wondering," Brockway rejoined, reflectively. "I think we are
safe in assuming that he hadn't."

"I don't care; I'm not going back," said Gertrude, with fine
determination. "Papa gave me this day, early in the morning, and I'm
going to keep it. What do you think of an irresponsible young person who
says such an unfilial thing as that?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you what I think."

"Try me and see."

"That is one of the things I don't dare--not yet."

"You'd better not abate any of your daring; you'll need it all when we
get back," laughed Gertrude, speaking far better than she knew.

"To take the consequences of my impudence?"

"Yes. You don't know my father; he is steel and ice when he is angry."

R