beauty. He naturally falls in love with her, and they say all manner
of fine things to each other."

She considered him for a while before speaking. It thrilled him to see
the odd tenderness that was in her face. "You always think of saying
and writing fine things, do you not, sir?"

"My dear," he answered, gravely, "I believe that I was undoubtedly
guilty of such folly until you came. I wish I could make you
understand how your coming has changed everything."

"You can tell me some other time," the girl gaily declared, and was
about to leave him.

His hand detained her very gently. "Faith, but I fear not, for already
my old hallucinations seem to me incredible. Why, yesterday I thought
it the most desirable of human lots to be a great poet"--the gentleman
laughed in self-mockery. "I positively did. I labored every day
toward becoming one. I lived among books, esteemed that I was doing
something of genuine importance as I gravely tinkered with alliteration
and metaphor and antithesis and judicious paraphrases of the ancients.
I put up with life solely because it afforded material for
versification; and, in reality, believed the destruction of Troy was
providentially ordained lest Homer lack subject matter for an epic.
And as for loving, I thought people fell in love in order to exchange
witty rhymes."

His hand detained her, very gently. . . . Indeed, it seemed to him he
could never tire of noting her excellencies. Perhaps it was that
splendid light poise of her head he chiefly loved; he thought so at
least, just now. Or was it the wonder of her walk, which made all
other women he had ever known appear to mince and hobble, like rusty
toys? Something there was assuredly about this slim brown girl which
recalled an untamed and harmless woodland creature; and it was that, he
knew, which most poignantly moved him, even though he could not name
it. Perhaps it was her bright kind eyes, which seemed to mirror the
tranquillity of forests. . . .

"You gentry are always talking of love," she marveled.

"Oh," he said, with acerbity, "oh, I don't doubt that any number of
beef-gorging squires and leering, long-legged Oxford dandies----" He
broke off here, and laughed contemptuously. "Well, you are beautiful,
and they have eyes as keen as mine. And I do not blame you, my dear,
for believing my designs to be no more commendable than theirs--no, not
at all."

But his mood was spoiled, and his tetchy vanity h