hey be
happy?

Thus he stood by the bank of this still lake, studying the water,
marvelling at the subtleties of reflected radiance, feeling the artist's
joy in perfect natural beauty, twining and intertwining it all with
love, death, failure, fame. It was romantic to think that in such a
lake, if he were unkind, would Angela be found. By such a dark as was
now descending would all her bright dreams be submerged. It would be
beautiful as romance. He could imagine a great artist like Daudet or
Balzac making a great story out of it. It was even a subject for some
form of romantic expression in art. Poor Angela! If he were a great
portrait painter he would paint her. He thought of some treatment of her
in the nude with that mass of hair of hers falling about her neck and
breasts. It would be beautiful. Should he marry her? Yes, though he was
not sure of the outcome, he must. It might be a mistake but--

He stared at the fading surface of the lake, silver, lavender, leaden
gray. Overhead a vivid star was already shining. How would it be with
her if she were really below those still waters? How would it be with
him? It would be too desperate, too regretful. No, he must marry her. It
was in this mood that he returned to the city, the ache of life in his
heart. It was in this mood that he secured his grip from the hotel and
sought the midnight train for New York. For once Ruby, Miriam,
Christina, were forgotten. He was involved in a love drama which meant
life or death to Angela, peace or reproach of conscience to himself in
the future. He could not guess what the outcome would be, but he felt
that he must marry her--how soon he could not say. Circumstances would
dictate that. From present appearances it must be immediately. He must
see about a studio, announce the news of his departure to Smite and
MacHugh; make a special effort to further his art ambitions so that he
and Angela would have enough to live on. He had talked so glowingly of
his art life that now, when the necessity for demonstrating it was at
hand, he was troubled as to what the showing might be. The studio had to
be attractive. He would need to introduce his friends. All the way back
to New York he turned this over in his mind--Smite, MacHugh, Miriam,
Norma, Wheeler, Christina--what would Christina think if she ever
returned to New York and found him married? There was no question but
that there was a difference between Angela and these. It was
something--a m