t's a fine old place."

"I'm sure it is. I've often--tried--to picture it."

"I'll take you there one day to see it."

It was out! Ripped from him on the impulse. How could he take her
to see it, if they were not going to meet again after this? But he
had never determined that they were not to meet again; only that he
would not bring her to his rooms. It amounted to the same thing. He
was not the man to let his inclinations fool him. If they met, what
was there to keep him from bringing her here? Nothing! He knew he
would do it. He hoped then that she would take no notice of his remark;
but he hoped in vain. She leapt to it, eyes glinting with delight.
To her that offer conveyed everything. She saw herself down there
in the country with him, the spring just lifting its promise of life,
like a child, out of the cradle of the earth. She heard him telling
her that he loved her. She felt herself pledging the very soul that
God had given her into the open hollow of his hands. Take no notice
of his remark? Her whole instinct lifted to it.

"I don't believe there's anything else I should like so well," she
exclaimed intensely.

He inwardly cursed his impulsiveness. "Oh, well, that'll be
splendid," he said soberly. "Only it's no good going down at this
time of the year. The country now's a grave, a sort of God's acre
where only dead things are buried. I can't stand the country at this
time of the year."

"No, of course not. It's much too cold now; but in the spring--"

"Yes," he jumped at that--"in the spring. That's the time."

Then he thought so too. Perhaps the same fancies were shaping in his
mind as well. She threw back her head, resting it on the chair behind.
There was complete happiness in the heart of her. Every breath she
took was an unspoken gratitude.

"Do you see your sister often?" she asked, as he handed her her cup
of coffee.

"Often? No, once a month perhaps." His lips shut tight, as though
the question had been a plea that he should see her more frequently
and he were determined to refuse.

"But why is that?" she asked sympathetically. "Doesn't she often come
to Town?"

"Oh yes--most part of the year. They've got a small house in Sloane
Street, and live there all the winter."

Sally looked at him with troubled eyes--troubled in sympathy because,
with the quick wit of a woman in love, she had felt here the need
of it. His sister lived in Sloane Street--lived there for the most
part of the wint