ou?"

"I've been thinking.... No, it doesn't. But I wondered about you."

He came over to where she stood.

"Dear," he said unsteadily, "don't you know I'm very desperately in
love with you?"

At that she turned her enchanting little head toward him.

"If you are," she said, "there need be nothing desperate about it."

"Do you mean you care enough to marry me, you darling?" he asked
impetuously. "Will you, Palla?"

"Why, no," she said candidly. "I didn't mean that. I meant that
I care for you quite as much as you care for me. So you need not
be desperate. But I really don't think we are in love--I mean
sufficiently--for anything serious."

"Why don't you think so!" he demanded impatiently.

"Do you wish me to be quite frank?"

"Of course!"

"Very well." She lifted her head and let her clear eyes rest on his.
"I like you," she said. "I even like--what we did. I like you far
better than any man I ever knew. But I do not care for you enough to
give up my freedom of mind and of conduct for your asking. I do not
care enough for you to subscribe to your religion and your laws. And
that's the tragic truth."

"But what on earth has all that to do with it? I haven't asked you to
believe as I believe or to subscribe to any law----"

Her enchanting laughter filled the room: "Yes, you have! You asked me
to marry you, didn't you?"

"Of course!"

"Well, I can't, Jim, because I don't believe in the law of marriage,
civil or religious. If I loved you I'd live with you unmarried. But
I'm afraid to try it. And so are you. Which proves that I'm not really
in love with you, or you with me----"

The door bell rang.

"But I do care for you," she whispered, bending swiftly toward him.
Her lips rested lightly on his a moment, then she turned and walked
out into the centre of the room.

The maid announced: "Mr. Estridge!"

CHAPTER VIII

Young Shotwell, still too incredulous to be either hurt or angry,
stood watching Palla welcoming her guests, who arrived within a few
minutes of each other.

First came Estridge,--handsome, athletic, standing over six feet, and
already possessed of that winning and reassuring manner which means
success for a physician.

"It's nice of you to ask me, Palla," he said. "And is Miss Westgard
really coming to-night?"

"But here she is now!" exclaimed Palla, as the maid announced her.
"--Ilse! You astonishing girl! How long have you been in New York?"

And Shotwell beheld the s