--and--could."

She shook her head. "No--I never could. Anybody who had much to do
with me would have to learn at once that I must have my own way."

"And if he should chance to be the sort of person who always wants his
own way, it would be disastrous. Yes--I see. And I comprehend your
ideal. I saw such a man once. It was in a railway station. He stood at
one side holding all the luggage, and his wife bought the tickets. She
was larger than he--I should say about one hundred and fifty pounds
larger. To take and hold such an enviable position as this woman held
needs, I think, an excess of avoirdupois."

He was laughing down at her, for she had got to her feet, and he had
risen with her. One hundred and twenty pounds of girlish grace and
slenderness looked even less beside one hundred and eighty of
well-distributed masculine bulk. But it was only his lips which
laughed. His eyes dwelt on her with no raillery in their depths, only
a longing which grew with each jesting word he spoke.

"Will you let me carry you in?" he asked, as she moved slowly toward
Betty. She shook her head. She laid a caressing hand on the mare's
smooth nose and whispered in her ear.

"Good-night, Betty," she said.

"You ought not to walk, with that knee. You can't fool with a
knee--it's a bad place to get hurt. I'm going to carry you."

She stood still, looking up at him at last. "Good-night, Mr. Jarvis,"
she said.

He came close. "See here," he said, rapidly, under his breath, "I
can't stand this any longer. You've put me off and put me off--and
I've let you. You've had your way. Now I'm going to have mine. You
shall answer me, one way or the other, to-night--now. I love you--I've
told you so--twice with my lips--a hundred times in every other way.
But I'm not going to be played with any longer. Will you take
me--now--or never?"

"What a singular way--what a barbaric way," she said, with proud eyes.

"It may be singular--it may be primitive--it's my way--to end what I
must. Will you answer me?"

"Yes, I'll answer you," she said, with uplifted head.

"Look at me, then."

She raised her eyes to his. Given the chance he so seldom got from
her, he gazed eagerly down into their depths, revealed to him in the
half light, half shadow, of the strange place they were in. She met
the look steadily at first, then falteringly. At length the lashes
fell.

In silence he waited, motionless. She tried to laugh lightly. "You're
so tragic," she m