l, and you begin to laugh."

"I never said that you were like a squirrel," she exclaimed, greatly
shocked; "how can you think that I would say such a thing?"

"You did," he declared bitterly. "You said I was like a squirrel in his
wheel, because I tell you so often that I love you."

"Oh, monsieur, you _know_ that I never meant it in that way; how can you
think for an instant that I could have--have said that--that--" She felt
it impossible to define her offence again without having the corners of
her mouth give way; but she went close beside him and faced his vexation
with earnest, upraised eyes the while that she laid one hand upon his
arm with the sweet impulsive gesture of a pleading child.

The gold had all faded from the sky, and the pink reflection in the far
west was sunk beyond the horizon. The path was very solitary; they were
quite alone except for an occasional peasant returning from his labor.

"Say that you understand," she said anxiously, as a break in the trees
revealed a long stretch of river; "you _must_ say something, because I
want to know how far it is to the next bridge."

He stopped and stared ahead.

"There are no more bridges," he proclaimed.

"No more bridges," she cried.

He shook his head.

"Must we go the whole way back along this same muddy path?"

"Yes, surely."

She turned.

"Then let us go back now. There is no fun walking any further this way
after the sunset is over."

"Is it for the sunset alone that you walk?"

"What shall I say?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Say that you walk for me."

"And then what follows?"

"I follow."

They laughed together.

"I am so good to you," he declared; "even when you laugh at me I am
never angry. I am truly so very good."

He appeared so well content with himself that they went the whole
distance to the Peace Monument before she disturbed his placid
introspection. There was a pleasure to her in simply walking beside him
in silence; it was a sensation which she had never attempted to analyze,
but its existence had become a part of her own.

"Do not let us go home," he proposed suddenly, when her turning to cross
the Luitpoldbrucke recalled him to himself; "let us go somewhere and
dine alone together. It is perhaps the last time; Jack returns
to-morrow."

"Oh, let us," she agreed delightedly; but then her voice altered
suddenly for the worse. "No, it's impossible," she said sadly, "I can't
go to a cafe and dine in this s