ed--the night was cloudy--in an
open patch of sky, and the vague brightness shone down on his honest and
serious visage.

"I don't understand her," he said.

"Oh, I 'll say that with you any day!" cried Bernard. "I can't help you
there."

"You must help me;" and Gordon Wright deserted his star. "You must keep
me in good humor."

"Please to walk on, then. I don't in the least pity you; she is very
charming with you."

"True enough; but insisting on that is not the way to keep me in good
humor--when I feel as I do."

"How is it you feel?"

"Puzzled to death--bewildered--depressed!"

This was but the beginning of Gordon Wright's list; he went on to say
that though he "thought as highly" of Miss Vivian as he had ever done,
he felt less at his ease with her than in the first weeks of their
acquaintance, and this condition made him uncomfortable and unhappy.

"I don't know what 's the matter," said poor Gordon. "I don't know what
has come between us. It is n't her fault--I don't make her responsible
for it. I began to notice it about a fortnight ago--before you came;
shortly after that talk I had with her that I have just described to
you. Her manner has n't changed and I have no reason to suppose that
she likes me any the less; but she makes a strange impression on me--she
makes me uneasy. It 's only her nature coming out, I suppose--what you
might call her originality. She 's thoroughly original--she 's a kind
of mysterious creature. I suppose that what I feel is a sort of
fascination; but that is just what I don't like. Hang it, I don't want
to be fascinated--I object to being fascinated!"

This little story had taken some time in the telling, so that the two
young men had now reached their hotel.

"Ah, my dear Gordon," said Bernard, "we speak a different language. If
you don't want to be fascinated, what is one to say to you? 'Object to
being fascinated!' There 's a man easy to satisfy! Raffine, va!"

"Well, see here now," said Gordon, stopping in the door-way of the inn;
"when it comes to the point, do you like it yourself?"

"When it comes to the point?" Bernard exclaimed. "I assure you I don't
wait till then. I like the beginning--I delight in the approach of it--I
revel in the prospect."

"That's just what I did. But now that the thing has come--I don't revel.
To be fascinated is to be mystified. Damn it, I like my liberty--I like
my judgment!"

"So do I--like yours," said Bernard, laughing, as the