nashamed. "I do," she said, "It's an animal
passion for the purpose of populating the earth. And if you ask me, I
think it is rather a dirty trick on the part of God."

"You don't mean that," he said, distressed.

She laughed again merrily, and slipped her hand into his under the rug.
"Peter," she said--"there, am I not good? You aren't made to worry about
these things. I don't know that anyone is. We can't help ourselves, and
the best thing is to take our pleasures when we can find them. I suppose
you'll be shocked at me, but I'm not going to pretend. I wasn't built
that way. If this were a closed car I'd give you a kiss."

"I don't want that sort of a kiss," he said. "That was what you gave me
the other night. I want...."

"You don't know what you want, my dear, though you think you do. You
shouldn't be so serious. I'm sure I kiss very nicely--plenty of men think
so? anyway, and if there is nothing in that sort of kiss, why not kiss?
Is there a Commandment against it? I suppose our grandmothers thought so,
but we don't. Besides, I've been east of Suez, where there ain't no ten
Commandments. There's only one real rule left in life for most of us,
Peter, and that's this: 'Be a good pal, and don't worry.'"

Peter sighed. "You and I were turned out differently, Julie," he said.
"But I like you awfully. You attract me so much that I don't know how to
express it. There's nothing mean about you, and nothing sham. And I
admire your pluck beyond words. It seems to me that you've looked life in
the face and laughed. Anybody can laugh at death, but very few of us at
life. I think I'm terrified of it. And that's the awful part about it
all, for I ought to know the secret, and I don't. I feel an absolute
hypocrite at times--when I take a service, for example. I talk about
things I don't understand in the least, even about God, and I begin
to think I know nothing about Him...." He broke off, utterly miserable.

"Poor old boy," she said softly; "is it as bad as that?"

He turned to her fiercely. "You darling!" he said, carried away by her
tone. "I believe I'd rather have you than--than God!"

She did not move in her corner, nor did she smile now. "I wonder," she
said slowly. "Peter, it's you that hate shams, not I. It's you that are
brave, not I. I play with shams because I know they're shams, but I like
playing with them. But you are greater than I. You are not content with
playing. One of these days--oh, I don't know...." S