oft ruching of tulle, and
clambering among it a vine of delicate green leaves that looked as if they
were just plucked from a wild rose bank. David was delighted. Somehow the
bonnet looked like Marcia. He paid the price at once, declining to look at
anything else. It was enough that he liked it and that Hannah Heath had
not. He had never admired Hannah's taste. He carried it home in triumph,
letting himself softly into the house, lighted three candles, took the
bonnet out and hung it upon a chair. Then he walked around it surveying it
critically, first from this side, then from that. It pleased him
exceedingly. He half wished Marcia would hear him and come down. He wanted
to see it on her, but concluded that he was growing boyish and had better
get himself under control.

The bonnet approved, he walked back and forth through the kitchen and
dining-room thinking. He compelled himself to go over the events of the
afternoon and analyze most carefully his own innermost feelings. In fact,
after doing that he began further back and tried to find out how he felt
toward Marcia. What was this something that had been growing in him
unaware through the months; that had made his homecoming so sweet, and had
brightened every succeeding day; and had made this meeting with Kate a
mere commonplace? What was this precious thing that nestled in his heart?
Might he, had he a right to call it love? Surely! Now all at once his
pulses thrilled with gladness. He loved her! It was good to love her! She
was the most precious being on earth to him. What was Kate in comparison
with her? Kate who had shown herself cold and cruel and unloving in every
way?

His anger flamed anew as he thought of those cutting sentences he had
overheard, taunting her own sister about the clothes she wore. Boasting
that he still belonged to her! She, a married woman! A woman who had of
her own free will left him at the last moment and gone away with another!
His whole nature recoiled against her. She had sinned against her
womanhood, and might no longer demand from man the homage that a true
woman had a right to claim.

Poor little bruised flower! His heart went out to Marcia. He could not
bear to think of her having to stand and listen to that heartless tirade.
And he had been the cause of all this. He had allowed her to take a
position which threw her open to Kate's vile taunts.

Up and down he paced till the torrent of his anger spent itself, and he
was able t