not been
learning."

Don turned and looked at the girl by his side. It was growing dark
now, so that he could not see her very well; but he saw that she was
huddled up as he had found her that day in the little restaurant.

"Frances didn't have the nerve to come with me," he said. "Her father
stood in the way, and she couldn't get by him. I want to be fair about
this. At the beginning, if she'd come with me I'd have married
her--though Lord knows how it would have worked out. But she didn't
dare--and she's a pretty good sport, too. There's a lot in her she
doesn't know anything about. It would do her good to know you."

Again he paused. It was as if he were trying hard to keep his
balance.

"I want her to know you," he went on. "Because, after all, it was she
who made me see you. There, in a second, in the park, she pointed you
out to me, until you stood before me as clear as the star by the Big
Dipper. She said, 'It's some other girl you're seeing in me--a girl
who would dare to go hungry with you.' Then I knew. So I came right to
you."

She was still huddled up.

"And here I am," he concluded.

There he was. He did not need to remind her of that. Even when she
closed her eyes so that she might not see him, she was aware of it.
Even when he was through talking and she did not hear his voice, she
was aware of it. And, though she was miserable about it, she would
have been more miserable had he been anywhere else.

"I'm here, little girl," he said patiently.

"Even after I told you to go away," she choked.

"Even after you told me to go away."

"If you only hadn't come at all!"

"What else was there for me to do?"

"You--you could have gone to that camp with her. She wanted you to
go."

"I told her I couldn't go there--long before I knew why."

"You could have gone--oh, there are so many other places you could go!
And this is the only place I _could_ go."

"It's the only place I could go, too. Honest, it was. I'd have been
miserable anywhere else, and--well, you aren't making it very
comfortable for me here."

It seemed natural to have him blame her for his discomfort when it was
all his own fault. It seemed so natural, in the midst of the confusion
of all the rest of the tangle, that it was restful.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"That's something," he nodded.

"I--I guess the only thing for me to do is to go away myself."

"Where?"

"Back to New York. Oh, I wish I hadn't taken a vacation!"