ly includes what men of your sort demand, doesn't
it?" she asked.

"Men of my sort sometimes demand in others what they themselves are
lacking in," said Siward, laughing. "Sylvia, look at this jolly crowd!
Look at all those tables! It seems an age since I have done anything
of this sort. I feel like a boy of eighteen--the same funny, quickening
fascination in me toward everything gay and bright and alive!" He
looked around at her, laughingly. "As for you," he said, "you look about
sixteen. You certainly are the most beautiful thing this beautiful world
ever saw!"

"Schoolboy courtship!" she mocked him, lingering as he made his slow way
through the crowded place. The tint of excitement was in her eyes and
cheeks; the echo of it in her low, happy voice. "Where on earth is Mr.
Plank? Oh, I see them! They have a table by the balcony rail, in the
corner; and it seems to be rather secluded, Stephen, so I shall, of
course, expect you to say nothing further about beauty of any species.
... Are you a trifle tired? No? ... Well, you need not be indignant. I
don't care whether you tumble. Indeed, I don't believe there is really
anything the matter with you--you are walking with the same old careless
saunter. Mr. Plank," as they arrived and seated themselves, "Mr.
Siward has just admitted that he uses crutches only because they are
ornamental. Leila, isn't this air delicious? All sorts of people, too,
aren't there, Mr. Plank? Such curious-looking women, some of them--quite
pretty, too, in a certain way. Are you hungry, St--Mr. Siward?"

"Are you, St--Mr. Siward?" mimicked Leila promptly.

"I am," said Siward, laughing at Sylvia's significant colour and noting
Plank's direct gaze as the waiter filled Leila's slender-stemmed glass.
And "nothing but Apollinaris," he said coolly, as the waiter approached
him; but though his voice was easy enough, a dull patch of colour came
out under the cheek-bones.

"That is all I care for, either," said Sylvia with elaborate
carelessness.

Plank and Leila immediately began to make conversation. Siward, his eyes
bent on the glass of mineral water at his elbow, looked up in silence at
Sylvia questioningly.

There was something in her face he did not quite comprehend. She made
as though to speak, looked at him, hesitated, her lovely face eloquent
under the impulse. Then, leaning toward him, she said:

"'And thy ways shall be my ways.'"

"Sylvia, you must not deny yourself, just because I--"