too?" I enquired.

He took my question as if it was a statement. "That's true, too, I
suppose," he agreed.

"How hopeless," I murmured, still gazing at the picture, but in reality
contemplating my own empty life. He misunderstood.

"See here," he said. "I believe this little girl here is going to pull
through after all. Don't worry. I insist she is. That artist ought to
paint a sequel--just for you," he added, and abruptly he unfolded his
arms and looked at me squarely for the first time. "I didn't in the
least get your name," he broke off. "The good angel flew away so soon."

I told him.

"Oh, yes, Miss Vars. Thank you. Mine's Jennings. People mumble names so
in introductions." He glanced around at the piles of raincoats and racks
of umbrellas. I already had my coat on. "You weren't just going, were
you?" he inquired brightly. "For if you were, so was I, too. Perhaps you
will let me walk along--unless you're riding."

I forgot just for a minute that I didn't want to see another man for
years and years. He wasn't a man just then, but a bright and colorful
illumination. He stood before me full of life and vigor. He was tall
and straight. His close-cropped hair shone like gold in the pale
gas-light, and there was a tan or glow upon his face that made me think
of out-of-doors. His smile, his straightforward gaze, his crisp voice,
had brightened that dull little room for me. I went with him. Of course
I did--out into the rainy darkness of the late October afternoon, drawn
as a child towards the glow of red fire.

CHAPTER XI

A WALK IN THE RAIN

Once on the side-walk Mr. Jennings said, "I'm glad to know your name,
for I know you by sight already. Shall we have any umbrella?"

"Let's not," I replied. "I like the mist. But how do you know me?"

"I thought you would--like the mist, I mean--because you seem to like
my woods so well."

"Your woods! Why--what woods?"

"The ones you walk in every day," he cheerfully replied; "they're
mine. I discovered them, and to whom else should they belong?"

"I've been trespassing, then."

"Oh, no! I'm delighted to lend my woods to you. If you wear blinders and
keep your eyes straight ahead and stuff your ears with cotton so you
can't hear the trolleys, you can almost cheat yourself into thinking
they're real woods with a mountain to climb at the end of them. Do you
like that little rustic seat I made beside the lake?"

"Did you make it?"

"Yes, Saturdays, for re