Winifred was not glad. "You are sure you are making no mistake,
Max?"

"Wait till you see her."

Winifred waited and saw. "She's not in the least in love with him. She
likes the warm nest she has fallen into. And she'll spoil his future.
He'll settle down here, and he belongs to the world."

He belonged at least to his constituency.

"I've got to make a speech," he told the three women one morning, "in a
town twenty miles away. If you girls would like the ride you can motor
over with me. You needn't listen to my speech if you don't want to."

Amy and Winifred said that of course they wanted to listen. Anne smiled
happily and said nothing. She was, of course, glad to go, but Maxwell's
speeches were to her the abstract things of life; the concrete things at
this moment were the delicious dinner which was before her and the fact
that in the barn, curled up in the hay, was a new family of
kittens--little tabbies like their adoring mother.

"Isn't it a lovely world?" she had said to her lover as she had sat in
the loft with the cuddly cats in her lap.

"Yes."

He knew that it was not all lovely, that somewhere there were lean and
hungry kittens and lean and hungry folks--but why remind her at such a
moment?

VI

On the way over Anne sat with Winifred. She had insisted that Amy should
have the front seat with Max. Amy was much better. Life had begun to
flow into her veins like wine. She had written to Murray: "It is as if a
miracle had happened."

Winifred, on the back seat, talked to Anne. She had a great deal to say
about Maxwell's future. "I am sorry he bought the farm."

"Oh, not really." Anne's attention strayed. She had one of the puppies
in her lap. He kept peeping out from between the folds of her cape with
his bright eyes. "Isn't he a darling, Winifred?"

"He ought to sell it." Winifred liked dogs, but at this moment she
wanted Anne's attention. "He ought to sell the farm. He has a great
future before him. Everybody says it. He simply must not settle down."

"Oh, well, he won't," said Anne easily.

"He will if you let him."

"If I let him?"

"If he thinks you like it."

There was a deep flush on Winifred's cheeks. She was really a very
handsome girl, with bright brown hair and brown eyes. She wore a small
brown hat and a sable collar. The collar was open and showed her strong
white throat.

"If he thinks you like it," she repeated, "he will stay; and he belongs
to the world; nobody mu