er wilful obtuseness on the subject of love bore to
him the appearance of wanton cruelty. It did not occur to him that she
might be acting in self-defence, fearing to give the slightest rein to
a feeling which might, on very slight provocation, run away with her.
She was the kind of girl which one does not readily think of in
connection with the tender passion; and whose love, perhaps, for this
very reason, seems so ineffably precious to him who is trying to win
it.

"Did it ever occur to you," he said to her one day, as they were
walking together under the leafless arches of the Rosenthal, "that
when God saw all that He had made, and 'behold it was very good,' He
left woman out?"

"No, I didn't know it," she said, with a gleam of amusement.

"Nevertheless, it is so," he went on. "When He said it was all very
good, woman was not yet created. After she was made, God said nothing
at all."

"That was because she was so nice that she needed no commendation,"
rejoined Miss Jones promptly.

"For all that, history shows that she has made a deal of mischief in
the world," said Grover lugubriously; he was feeling piqued and
abused at her want of responsiveness to his undisguised admiration.

"History was written by men," was Miss Jones's response.

"But made by women," ejaculated Grover, eager to hold his own in the
tilt.

"As you like. I don't think the man was far wrong who said that there
was a woman at the bottom of every important event."

"You talk like a book."

"I only wish I had the wit to make one. I would make you men stare if
I published my version of the world's history."

"You can do that better without the wit," he retorted recklessly;
then, seeing a little cloud, as of pained surprise, pass over her
countenance, he made a motion to seize her hand, but succeeded,
instead, in knocking her parasol into the middle of the road. The
necessity of recovering it cooled for the moment the passion which had
threatened to overmaster him.

"Pardon me," he murmured penitently, as he was again at her side. "I
did not mean to hurt your feelings; but the fact is, I am on such a
constant strain to keep my sentiment below the boiling point that I
lose my self-control and say things the effect of which I only see
after I have said them."

"Don't apologize, please," she said, hurrying on so rapidly that he
could only with difficulty keep pace with her; then as a perfect
godsend, there crossed her line of vision two