"You don't mean to suggest that you are going back to Santa Barbara?" "Why not?" "True enough, 'why not?' It was a foolish question. You doubtless have strong attachments there." "I have, indeed." "And it's natural to go where our attachments are strongest." "Yes; you have proved that to-day." "You evidently share in my brother's disapproval. Mary would soon become quite reconciled." "I? I have no right to feel either approval or disapproval, while you have an undoubted right to please yourself." "Indeed! are you so indifferent? If you think Miss Wildmere objectionable you should disapprove." "If you find her altogether charming, if she realizes your ideal, is not that sufficient? Everything is very much what it seems to us. If I as a girl would please myself, you, surely, as a man have a right to do so." "Do you propose to please yourself?" "Indeed I do." "You will be disappointed. You have formed a passion for ideals. I imagine, though, that you are somewhat different from other girls whose future husbands must be ideal men, but who are content themselves to remain very much what their milliners, dressmakers, and fashion make them." "I can at least say that I am not content; and I am also guilty of the enormity of cherishing ideals." "Oh, I've found that out, if nothing else. Ideals among men are as thick as blackberries, you know. Jack Henderson dances superbly." "Yes; he quite meets my ideal in that respect." "Perhaps you left some one in Santa Barbara who meets your ideal in all respects?" "There was one gentleman there who approached it nearly." "How could you leave him?" "He came on with me--Mr. Wayland." "Pshaw! He's old enough to be your father." "And very like a father he was to me. I owe him an immense deal, for he helped me so much!" "You did not let me help you?" "Yes; I did. I wrote to you for books, and read all you sent me; some parts of them several times." "You know that is not what I meant. I am learning to understand you somewhat, Madge. I hope you may realize all your ideals, and find some young fellow who is the embodiment of the higher life, aspirations, and all that, you know." Her laugh rang out musically. Mrs. Muir heard it, and remarked to her husband: "Madge and Graydon are getting on better. They have seemed to me to clash a little to-day." Mr. Muir made no reply, and Graydon, as he mounted the steps, whispered, hurriedly, "What you said about Miss Wildmere was at least just and fair. I wish you liked her, and would influence Henry to like her, for I see that you have influence with him." She made no response by word or sign.