ced. I never should
question them. Mine is the fate of the scoffer. The most rabid persecutor
is merely the reverse side of the bigoted proselyter. Upon me rests not
the curse that follows the tolerant. They get nowhere. 'Because thou art
neither hot nor cold I spew thee from my mouth.'"

"Really!" It was plain she was a little puzzled, and took refuge in the
conveniently inexpressive "really." "Did she tell you a good fortune?"

"How can I say? Fortune is always in the future."

"You are teasing me and telling me nothing," she declared, "and you are
laughing, laughing, too, as if over some secret and mysterious joke."

"I am laughing," he said, suddenly serious, "but not over any of the
revelations of Mademoiselle Mariposa, I can assure you; and to show you
my faith in her prophecies, I am going to tell you something." He was
grave enough now. "And yet, I wonder--perhaps--"

"Perhaps what?"

"Perhaps you will find no interest in what I want to say."

She looked up at him quickly, surprise in her glance. "How absurd! I do
not see why you say such things. Why should you fancy that I would not be
interested in anything you have to tell me?"

They had turned down a narrow lane of trees, and the skies, a deeper and
more luminous gold, were in a net of bare, black twigs. The wind bore the
fragrance of Marcia's violets past Hayden's nostrils.

"But you may not feel so when I tell you that I love you, Marcia." His
voice low and unsteady thrilled her heart. "I realize the rashness of the
whole thing; but I do love you, Marcia."

There was a moment's silence, a silence when Hayden's heart-beats sounded
louder than the patter of their feet on the concrete pavement or the
distant and mighty roar of the city--and then Marcia lifted her eyes to
his.

In a moment the miracle had happened. Above them stretched the same gold
sky in its intricate and broken nets, the wind blew softly; but they two
had stepped across the boundaries of commonplace days straight into
Arcady. Flowers bloomed, birds sang, and the soul of the spring was in
their hearts. But, curiously enough, though they were in Arcady, they
were also in the Park. Hayden looked up the little lane; north and south
marched an unending line of people. They were in Arcady, but deprived of
its ancient privilege of sylvan and umbrageous solitude.

She was the first to speak. "Why is it absurd?" And her clear voice
trembled a little.

"How can it be, as things stand,