I hate to have
you get married, honey."

"Oh, mother, don't you like Dick?"

"Yes. It ain't that. But it's nice for you in the office and you don't
have to slave."

Nannie sat up in bed, and the light from the street lamp shone in and
showed her wide-eyed, with her hair in a red glory. "I shan't slave,"
she said. "I told Dick."

"Men don't know." Mrs. Ashburner spoke with a sort of weary bitterness.
"They'll promise anything."

"And I am not going to be married in a hurry, mother. Dick's got to wait
for me if he wants me."

It sounded very worldly-minded and decisive and Mrs. Ashburner gained an
envious comfort in her daughter's declaration. She had never set herself
against a man's will in that way. Perhaps, after all, Nannie would make
a success of marriage.

But Nannie was not so resolute as her words might have seemed to imply.
Long after her mother slept she lay awake in the dark and thought of
Dick, of the break in his voice when he had made his plea, the light in
his eyes when he had won a response, his flaming youth, his fine boy's
reverence for her own youth and innocence. It would be--rather
wonderful, she whispered to her heart, and fell asleep, dreaming.

The next morning was very cold, and Nannie, coming early into Kingdon
Knox's office to take his letters, was in a glow after her walk through
the snowy streets. Her cheeks were red, her eyes sparkled, and the ring
on her finger sparkled.

Knox at once noticed the ring. "So that's it," he said, and leaned back
in his chair. "Let's talk about it a little."

They talked about it more than a little, and the burden of Kingdon
Knox's argument was that it was a pity. She was too young and pretty to
marry a poor man and live in a funny little flat and do her own work
and spoil her nails with dishwashing. "Personally, I think it's rather
dreadful. A waste of you, if you want the truth."

Poor Nannie, listening, saw her castles falling. It would be rather
dreadful--dishwashing and a gas stove and getting meals.

"He is awfully in love with me," she managed to say at last.

"And you?" He leaned forward a little. Nannie was aware of the feeling
of excitement which he could always rouse in her. When he spoke like
that she saw herself as something rather perfect and princesslike.

"Wait--for Prince Charming," he said.

Nannie was sure that when Prince Charming came he would be like Mr.
Knox; younger perhaps, but with that same lovely manner.

"Of co