on. It is strong,
masterly, imperious, but he seems to check himself now and then, as if
he wanted her to believe he was holding in the actual man for her sake,
and Marcia is immensely flattered. He has brought her a really
beautiful bracelet, counting on her personal vanity, and she is quite
overwhelmed.

"If it had been any ordinary designer, of course I should have paid the
usual price for the work," he explains, "but I wanted you to remember
the pleasure the interviews gave me."

"You rate them too highly," says Marcia, falteringly.

"Ah, I didn't say they gave _you_ pleasure," he answers. "You have so
much society, so many friends, but a poor unfortunate fellow like me
gets early shelved, and crumbs are not to my taste. I am just selfish
enough to want a whole piece of cake."

"Well, why should you not have it?" says Marcia, who is well versed in
the audacities of coquetry.

"I am not at all sure I could get it, the kind I want."

He folds his hands behind him and they walk down to the shore. Her
portfolio she has consigned to a rocky crevice: there will be no
sketching she is well aware.

"I think a man--can get a great deal," she says, in a meditative sort
of tone. "He can dare almost anything. Indeed, it occurs to me that it
is often women who take up with the crumbs."

"And there are seasons in life when one would be glad to offer an
equivalent, if one had the nice iced and ornamented cake."

"Oh, you fancy women are always on the lookout for sweets, Mr.
Wilmarth," she says, parrying. "There are other things----"

"As what?"

"Strength, power, honor, manliness."

"I wonder," he begins, musingly, "how long strength and manliness would
stand against beauty and the soft, seductive flatteries of society. I
wonder what they in their ruggedness would win? What a lovely day it
is, and what a solemn talk! I shall bore you," suddenly changing his
tone.

Marcia protests. They ramble up and down, and skirmish. He has fancied
her an over-ripe peach ready to fall, but is surprised at her numerous
little defences. It is fortunate for her that she cannot think him in
solemn earnest, for her uncertainty adds a zest to his pursuit.

When they part it is with the understanding that she shall not attend
the musicale, which she really cares little about, and that he shall
spend the evening with her. It is a rather bold step, and his
acquiescence sends a tremor through every pulse. What if he _should_
prove a lov