sulkies
full of youngsters for a drive in the afternoon like all the other
humdrum, tame-hen, _respectable_ married women! It's a sweet prospect,
isn't it?" she said vexedly, throwing herself on the bed.

"Don't be absolutely absurd! Look in the glass and you will see a far
more beautiful face, and one possessed of other qualities that make
for success."

"Oh, nonsense, you only say that to put me in a good humour. But how
do women find such good matches as Leslie Walker?--that's what I want
to know," she continued.

"Either by being beautiful or using strategic ability in the great
lottery. Mrs Walker probably used both these accomplishments. You can
achieve similar results by means of the first without the necessity of
developing the second. Silly girl, marry Leslie Walker's step-brother,
Ernest Breslaw, and if you do not live happily ever after it will not
be because you have not been furnished with a better opportunity than
most people."

She did not remark the relationship I thus divulged, showing that
Ernest's confidences must have included it.

"A girl can't _make_ a man marry her," was all she said. "I don't know
how to use strategy, and wouldn't crawl to do such a thing if I
could."

"Neither would I, but if I loved a man and saw that he loved me, I'd
secretly hoist a little flag of encouragement in some place where he
could see it," I made reply.

TWENTY-FIVE.

"LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM."

Next morning was gloriously spring-like; the violets raised their
heads in thick mats of blue and white in every available cranny of the
garden and other enclosures where they were allowed to assert
themselves, while other plants were opening their garlands to replace
them, and the air breathed such a note of balminess that Ernest came
to invite me to a boat-ride.

To the practised eye there were certain indications that he hoped for
Dawn's company too, but this was out of the question, as under
ordinary circumstances it is rarely that girls in Dawn's walk of life
can go pleasuring in the forenoon without previous warning, or what
would become of the half-cooked midday dinner? So we set out by
ourselves, and as the boat shot out to the middle of the stream
between the peach orchards, just giving a hint of their coming glory,
and past the erstwhile naked grape-canes, not cut away and replaced by
a vivid green, the rower made a studiedly casual remark, "Your friend
Miss Dawn spoke to me again at last. I wonde