to Irene whom he found something more than
merry and amusing,--a girl of indomitable courage and optimism, in
fact. He liked her immensely. And so Tootles paired off with Martin and
had innumerable opportunities of putting forward the challenge of sex.
She took them all, but with the most carefully considered subtlety. She
descended to nothing obvious, as was to be expected from one of her
type, which was not famous for such a thing as self-restraint. She paid
great attention to her appearance and kept a close watch on her tongue.
She played what she imagined was the part of a little lady, toned down
her usual exuberance, her too loud laugh and her characteristic habit
of giving quick and smart back answers. But in all her long talks with
Martin she hinted ever so lightly that she and he had not been thrown
together from opposite poles without a reason. She tried to touch his
mind with the thought that it was to become what she said it might the
night of the accident,--a romance, a perfectly private little affair of
their own, stolen from their particular routine, which could be ended
at a moment's notice. She tried to wrap the episode up in a page of
poetry which might have been torn from a little book by Francois Villon
and give it a wistfulness and charm that she thought would appeal to
him. But it was not until one more than usually exquisite night, when
the spirit of July lingered in the air and the warmth of the sun still
lay among the stars, that she made her first step towards her goal.
Howard and Irene had wandered down to the water, and she was left with
Martin sitting elfishly among the ferns on the bank below the cottage
and above the silver lapping water. Martin, very much alive to the
magic spell of the night, with the young sap stirring in his veins, lay
at her feet, and she put her hand caressingly on his head and began to
talk in a half whisper.

"Boy, oh, boy," she said, "what shall I do without you when this dream
comes to an end?"

"Dream again," said Martin.

"Down there in the city, so far away from trees?"

"Why not? We can take our dreams with us wherever we go. But it isn't
coming to an end yet."

"How long will it last?"

"Until the sun gets cold," said Martin, catching her mood, "and there's
a chill in the air."

She slipped down a little so that he should see the light in her eyes.
There was hardly an inch between their lips, and the only sound was the
beating of her heart. Youth an