“You don’t believe in free will, then?” he asked. (“It was the only intelligent remark he could make, under the circumstances, you see,” explained Harley. “He was a clever fellow,” said I, and resumed reading.) “I believe in a great many things we are supposed to do without,” said Marguerite, sharply. They had reached the street, and in silence walked along Bellevue Avenue. [Picture: The walk on the cliff] “There are a great many things,” vouchsafed Parker, as they turned out of the avenue to the cliffs, “that men are supposed not to do without—” “Yes,” said Marguerite, sharply—“vices.” “I did not refer to them,” laughed Parker. “In fact, Miss Andrews, the heart of man is supposed to be incomplete until he has lost it, and has succeeded in getting another for his very—” “Are you an admirer of Max Nordau?” interposed Marguerite, quickly. (“Whatever led you to put that in?” I asked. “Go on, and you’ll see,” said Harley. “I didn’t put it in. It’s what she said. I’m not responsible.”) “I don’t know anything about Max Nordau,” said Parker, somewhat surprised at this sudden turn of the conversation. “Are you familiar with Schopenhauer?” she asked. (“It was awfully rough on the poor fellow,” said Harley, “but I couldn’t help him. I’d forced him in so far that I couldn’t get him out. His answer floored me as completely as anything that Miss Andrews ever did.”) “Schopenhauer?” said Parker, nonplussed. “Oh yes,” he added, an idea dawning on his mind. “That is to say, moderately familiar—though, as a matter of fact, I’m not at all musical.” Miss Andrews laughed immoderately, in which Parker, thinking that he had possibly said something witty, although he did not know what it was, joined. In a moment the laughter subsided, and for a few minutes the two walked on in silence. Finally Parker spoke, resignedly. “Miss Andrews,” he said, “perhaps you have noticed—perhaps not—that you have strongly interested me.” “Yes,” she said, turning upon him desperately. “I have noticed it, and that is why I have on two separate occasions tried to keep you from saying so.” “And why should I not tell you that I love—” began Parker.