to you, you'd
misunderstand."

"Perhaps. But why this radiance?"

"Good news."

"From whom?"

"A man."

"What man?" with rising jealousy.

"One who has given me the thing I want."

He was plainly puzzled.

"I don't know what you mean."

"A letter came this morning--a lovely letter in a long envelope."

She took a paper out of a magazine which lay on the stone bench by her
side. "Read that," she said.

He read and his face went perfectly white, so that it showed chalkily
beneath his red hair.

"Mary," he said, "what have you done this for? You know I'm not going
to let you."

"You haven't anything to do with it."

"But I have. It is ridiculous. You don't know what you are doing.
You've never been tied to an office desk--you've never fought and
struggled with the world."

[Illustration: "You don't know what you are doing."]

"Neither have you, Porter."

"Well, if I haven't, is it my fault?" he demanded, "I was born into the
world with this millstone of money around my neck, and a red head. Dad
sent me to school and to college, and he set me up in business. There
wasn't anything left for me to do but to keep straight, and I've done
that for you."

"I know," she was very sweet as she leaned toward him, "but, Porter,
sometimes, lately, I've wondered if that's all that is expected of us."

"All? What do you mean?"

"Aren't we expected to do something for others?"

"What others?"

She wanted to tell him about Roger Poole and the boy in the pines. Her
eyes glowed. But her lips were silent.

"What others, Mary?"

"The people who aren't as fortunate as we are."

"What people?"

Mary was somewhat vague. "The people who need us--to help."

"Marry me, and you can be Lady Bountiful--dispensing charity."

"It isn't exactly charity." She had again the vision of Roger Poole
and the boy. "People don't just want our money--they want us
to--understand."

He was not following her. "To think that you should want to go out in
the world--to work. Tell me why you are doing it."

"Because I need an outlet for my energies--the girl of limited income
in these days is as ineffective as a jellyfish, if she hasn't some
occupation."

"You could never be a jellyfish. Mary, listen, listen. I need you,
dear. I've kept still for a year--Mary!"

"Porter, I can't."

And now he asked a question which had smouldered long in his breast.

"Is there any one else?"

Was there? Her thoughts lea