I thought you liked
Boardman?"

"I do; and I respect him very much. But that isn't the question. Don't
you think we ought to ask ourselves how others influence us?"

"Well, I don't see much of Boardy nowadays; but I like to drop down and
touch earth in Boardy once in a while--I'm in the air so much. Board has
more common-sense, more solid chunk-wisdom, than anybody I know. He's
kept me from making a fool of myself more times--"

"Wasn't he with you that day with--with those women in Portland?"

Dan winced a little, and then laughed. "No, he wasn't. That was the
trouble. Boardman was off on the press boat. I thought I told you. But
if you object to Boardman--"

"I don't. You mustn't think I object to people when I ask you about
them. All that I wished was that you should think yourself what sort of
influence he was. I think he's a very good influence."

"He's a splendid fellow, Boardman is, Alice!" cried Dan. "You ought to
have seen how he fought his way through college on such a little money,
and never skulked or felt mean. He wasn't appreciated for it; the men
don't notice these things much; but he didn't want to have it noticed;
always acted as if it was neither here nor there; and now I guess he
sends out home whatever he has left after keeping soul and body together
every week."

He spoke, perhaps, with too great an effect of relief. Alice listened,
as it seemed, to his tone rather than his words, and said absently--

"Yes, that's grand. But I don't want you to act as if you were afraid of
me in such things."

"Afraid?" Dan echoed.

"I don't mean actually afraid, but as if you thought I couldn't be
reasonable; as if you supposed I didn't expect you to make mistakes or
to be imperfect."

"Yes, I know you're very reasonable, and you're more patient with me
than I deserve; I know all that, and it's only my wish to come up to
your standard, I suppose, that gives me that apprehensive appearance."

"That was what vexed me with you there at Campobello, when you--asked
me--"

"Yes, I know."

"You ought to have understood me better. You ought to know now that I
don't wish you to do anything on my account, but because it's something
we owe to others."

"Oh, excuse me! I'd much rather do it for you," cried Dan; but Alice
looked so grave, so hurt, that he hastened on: "How in the world does it
concern others whether we are devoted or not, whether we're harmonious
and two-souls-with-but-a-single-thought, and