had the
machine out at dawn. My partner is busy practising this morning, and
I'll be back in a couple of hours. I was afraid," the gray eyes were
so gentle in their brilliancy, "I was afraid you might worry, Emily."

Serenely he assumed possession of her, and the assumption was very
sweet. He had not touched her, yet Emily had the sensation of brutally
thrusting him away when she spoke:

"How could I do anything else," she asked with desolation, "since we
must never meet each other any more? Only, you will not go far
away--you will stay where I can sometimes see you as we pass? I--I
think I could not bear it to have you go away."

"Emily!"

The scissors clinked sharply to the floor as she held out her white
hands in deprecation of his cry; the tears rushed to her eyes.

"You know, you know! I am not free; I am Emily Ffrench. I can not fail
my uncle and grieve him as his son did. Oh, I will never marry any one
else, and we will hear of each other; I can read in the papers and
Dick will tell me of you. It will be something to be so close, down
there and up here."

"Emily!"

"You are not angry? You will not be angry? You know I can do nothing
else, please say you know."

He came nearer and took both cold little hands in his clasp, bending
to her the shining gravity of his regard.

"Did you think me such a selfish animal, my dear, that I would have
kissed you when I could not claim you?" he asked. "Did you think I
could forget you were Emily Ffrench; even by moonlight?"

Her fair head fell back, her dark eyes questioned his.

"You--mean--"

"I mean that even your uncle can not deny my inherited quality of
gentleman. I am no millionaire incognito. I have driven racing cars
and managed this factory to earn my living, having no other dependence
than upon myself, but my blood is as old as yours, little girl, if
that means anything."

"Not to me," she cried, looking up into his eyes. "Not to me, but to
him. I cared for _you_--"

He drew her toward him, unresisting, their gaze still on each other.
As from the first, there was no shyness between them, but the strange,
exquisite understanding now made perfect.

"I was right to come to you," he declared, after a time. "Right to
fear that you were troubled, conscientious lady. But I must go back,
or there will be a fine disturbance at the Beach. And I have shattered
my other plans to insignificant fragments, or you have. If I did not
forget by moonlight that you