more dangerous
yet.... Shall we talk about the crops? This is fine weather for growing
things, isn't it?"

"Wonderful. I haven't been out this road this season--as far as this.
I'm beginning to wonder where you are taking us."

"To the hill where you and Miss Ruth and Ted and I toasted sandwiches
last November. Could there be a better place for the end--of our ride?
You haven't been out here this season--are you sure?"

"No, indeed. I've been too busy with the close of school to ride
anywhere--much less away out here."

"You like my choice, then? I hoped you would."

"Very much."

It was a queer, breathless sort of talking; Roberta hardly knew what she
was saying. She much preferred to ride along in silence. The hour was at
hand--so close at hand! And there was now no getting away. She knew
perfectly that her agreeing to come at all had told him his answer; none
but the most cruel of women would allow a man to bring her upon such a
ride, in the company of other interested people, only to refuse him at
the end of it. But she had to admit to herself that if he were now
exulting in the sure hope of possessing her he was keeping it well out
of sight. There was now none of the arrogant self-confidence in his
manner toward her which there had been on the February night when he had
made a certain prophecy concerning Midsummer. Instead there was that in
his every word and look which indicated a fine humility--almost a boyish
sort of shyness, as if even while he knew the treasure to be within his
grasp he could neither quite believe it nor feel himself fit to take it.
From a young man of the world such as he had been it was the most
exquisite tribute to her power to rouse the best in him that he could
have given and she felt it to the inmost soul of her.

"Here are the forks," said Richard suddenly, and Roberta recognized with
a start that they were nearly at the end of their journey.

"Which way?" Stephen was shouting back, and Richard was waving toward
the road at the left, which led up the steep hill.

"Here is where you dropped the bunch of rose haws," said he, with a
quick glance as they began the ascent. "I have them yet--brown and dry.
Did you know you dropped them?"

"I remember. But I didn't suppose anybody--"

"Found them? By the greatest luck--and stopped my car in a hurry. They
were bright on my desk for a month after that; I cared more for them
than for anything I owned. I had the greatest difficulty in