ou at all," flared Arline hotly. "Please don't
leave me, Grace. Whatever Mr. Forde has to say he must say in your
presence."

"I am sorry, Arline, but I must ask you to excuse me from remaining
longer in the room. Mr. Forde has come a long way to see you. I think
you should grant his request for a private talk with you. Good
afternoon, Mr. Forde. I regret that you should have so entirely
misunderstood my motives." The finality of her words robbed the
disagreeable caller of a ready reply. Before he could rally a further
relay of rude sarcasm to his aid, Grace had left the room.

If it is indeed true that actions speak louder than words, the
distinctly belligerent manner in which, ten minutes later, Mr. Stanley
Forde stormed down the walk to the waiting taxicab, gave glaring proof
of the dire result of his untimely call. From the garden, where Grace
had fled to recover from the irritation of having been so grossly
misunderstood, she saw the boorish young man depart. Privately she
marveled that Arline should have so deceived herself in regard to her
feelings for him. He was undoubtedly handsome, yet his regular features
indicated a certain lack of strength and nobility which she thought
totally marred his claim to good looks. His large black eyes had a trick
of narrowing unpleasantly, and the set of his mouth betokened tyranny.

Her sympathy going out to Arline, she passed slowly among the winding
garden paths, lined with colorful summer flowers, and entered the house.
The sight of a pathetic little figure crumpled in a disconsolate heap on
a broad settee aroused her pity afresh.

"Don't cry, Daffydowndilly," she soothed, sitting down beside her. "He
isn't worth it. You were wise in breaking your engagement. Some day real
love will come knocking at your door. You were never intended to be a
sedate spinster and live out your days in single blessedness. I'm sorry
for Mr. Forde. He loves you, I think. But not in the unselfish way you
deserve to be adored."

Grace paused, her hand straying gently over the curly head against her
shoulder. All of a sudden she felt very aged and very tired. The
unpleasant scene with Arline's disgruntled suitor had shaken her
severely. She was living out the Golden Summer, that had promised so
much, in a fashion far different from the glorious realization of it for
which she and Tom had hoped and planned. Yet she had been mercifully
spared the pain of beholding a cherished ideal shatter itsel