u've got that one a
little crooked," she added calmly. Paul decided disgustedly that he
gave her up. His own heart was aching so for old times and old voices
that it was far more pain than pleasure to handle all these reminders:
the photographs, the yacht pennant, the golf-clubs, the rumpled and
torn dominoes, the tumbler with "Cafe Henri" blown in the glass, the
shabby camera, the old Hawaiian banjo. Oh, what fun it had all been,
and what good fellows they were!

"It was lovely, of course," said Patricia, in a businesslike tone; "but
this is real life! Cheer up, Paul," she went on (they had reached
Christian names some weeks before). "I am going to have two darling
girls here for two weeks at Thanksgiving, just from Japan. And think of
the concert next month, with Harry Garvey and Laurette Hopps in a play,
and Mrs. Tolley singing 'What Are the Wild Waves Saying?' Then, if Alan
sends you to Sacramento, you can go to the theatre every night you're
there, and pretend"--her eyes danced mischievously--"that you're going
to step out on Broadway when the curtain goes down, and can look up the
street at electric signs of cocoa and ginger beer and silk petticoats--"

"Oh, don't!" said Paul; and, as if she were a little ashamed of
herself, she began to busy herself with the book-case, and was
particularly sweet for the rest of the evening. But she wouldn't talk
Radcliffe, and Paul wondered if her college days hadn't been happy; she
seemed rather uneasy when he repeatedly brought up the subject.

But a day or two later, when he and she were taking a long ride and
resting their horses by a little stream high up in the hills, she began
to talk of the East; and they let an hour, and then another, go by,
while they compared notes. Paul did most of the talking, and Miss
Chisholm listened, with downcast eyes, flinging little stones from the
crumbling bank into the pool the while.

A lazy leaf or two drifted upon the surface of the water, and where
gold sunlight fell through the thick leafage overhead and touched the
water, brown water-bugs flitted and jerked. Once a great dragon-fly
came through on some mysterious journey, and paused for a palpitating
bright second on a sunny rock. The woods all about were silent in the
tense hush of the summer afternoon; even the horses were motionless,
except for an occasional idle lipping of the underbrush. Now and then a
breath of pine, incredibly sweet, crept from the forest.

Paul watched hi