our veins, and I told him that you and I
always used the old Indian war cry when we called to each other,
and he asked, 'Who is Randy?' and I said that you were an old
friend, and that we had spent much of our childhood together."

As a matter of fact, Cope had been much interested in her account of
young Paine. "Do you mean to say that he is still living on all that
land?"

"Yes."

"Master of his own domain. I can't see it. The way I like to live is
with a paint box, and a bag, and nothing to keep me from moving on."

"We aren't like that in the South."

"Do you like to stay in one place?"

"I never have. I have always been handed around."

"Would you like a home of your own?"

"Of course--after I am married."

"North, south, east or west?"

She put the question to him seriously. "Do you think it would make any
difference if you loved a man, where you lived?"

"Well, of course, there might be difficulties--on a desert island."

"Not if you loved him."

"My sister wouldn't agree with you."

"Why not?"

"She is very modern. She says that love has nothing to do with it. Not
romantic love. She says that when she marries she shall choose a man who
lives in New York, who likes to go to Europe, and who hates the tropics.
He must fancy pale gray walls and willow-green draperies, and he must
loathe Florentine furniture. He must like music and painting, and not
care much for books. He must adore French cooking, and have a prejudice
against heavy roasts. He must be a Republican and High Church. She is
sure that with such a man she would be happy. The dove of peace would
hover over the household, because she and her husband would have nothing
to quarrel about."

"Of course she doesn't mean it."

"She thinks she does."

"She won't if she is ever really in love."

He glanced at her. "Then you believe in the desert island?"

"I think I do----"

She stood up. "Did you feel a drop of rain? And Grandfather is waving."

The Admiral on the porch of the closed Lodge was calling to them to come
under shelter.

It was a gentle rain, and they decided to walk home in it. They went at
a smart pace, which they moderated as Cope showed signs of fatigue.
"It's a beastly nuisance," he said, "to give out. I wish you would go on
ahead, and let me rest here----"

They rested with him. The two men talked, and Becky was rather silent.
When they started on again, Cope said to her, "Are you tired? It is a
l