e nothing there now save the
glory of Frieda. It was as though the hard, weary face of a barren
landscape were suddenly bathed in the soft effulgence of a midnight
moon.

As for Blackwood, it was as lovely as ever but he could not see it. The
fact that his attitude had changed toward Angela for the time being made
all the difference. He did not really hate her--he told himself that.
She was not any different from that she had been, that was perfectly
plain. The difference was in him. He really could not be madly in love
with two people at once. He had entertained joint affections for Angela
and Ruby, and Angela and Christina, but those were not the dominating
fevers which this seemed to be. He could not for the time get the face
of this girl out of his mind. He was sorry for Angela at moments. Then,
because of her insistence on his presence with her--on her being in his
company, "following him around" as he put it, he hated her. Dear Heaven!
if he could only be free without injuring her. If he could only get
loose. Think, at this moment he might be with Frieda walking in the sun
somewhere, rowing on the lake at Alexandria, holding her in his arms. He
would never forget how she looked the first morning she came into his
barn studio at home--how enticing she was the first night he saw her at
Sylvia's. What a rotten mess living was, anyhow. And so he sat about in
the hammock at the Blue homestead, or swung in a swing that old Jotham
had since put up for Marietta's beaux, or dreamed in a chair in the
shade of the house, reading. He was dreary and lonely with just one
ambition in the world--Frieda.

Meanwhile, as might be expected, his health was not getting any better.
Instead of curing himself of those purely carnal expressions of passion
which characterized his life with Angela, the latter went on unbroken.
One would have thought that his passion for Frieda would have
interrupted this, but the presence of Angela, the comparatively enforced
contact, her insistence on his attentions, broke down again and again
the protecting barrier of distaste. Had he been alone, he would have led
a chaste life until some new and available infatuation seized him. As it
was there was no refuge either from himself or Angela, and the at times
almost nauseating relationship went on and on.

Those of the Blue family, who were in the home or near it, were
delighted to see him. The fact that he had achieved such a great
success, as the papers