Diana looked thoughtful. It had never occurred to her, before this time, to wish that the country were not so extended; and certainly not to fancy that California and she had any interest in common. Lo, now it might be. "How soon _must_ you go, Evan?" she asked, as thoughts of longitude and latitude began to deepen the cloud shadow which had just touched her. "A few days--a week or two more." "Is that all?" "Can you go with me?" he whispered, bending forward to pick up a few of her berries, for the taste of which he certainly did not care at that moment. And she whispered, "No." "Can't you?" "You know it's impossible, Evan." "Then I must go by myself," he said, in the same half breath, stooping his head still so near that a half breath could be heard; and his hair, quite emancipated from the regulation cut, touched Diana's cheek. "I don't know how I can! But, Di--if I can get a furlough at Christmas and come for you--will you be ready then?" She whispered, "Yes." "That is, supposing I am in any place that I can take you to," he went on, after a hearty endorsement of the contract just made. "It is quite possible I may not be! But I won't borrow trouble. This is the first trouble I ever had in my life, Di, leaving you." "They say prosperity makes people proud," she said, with an arch glance at him. "'Proud?" echoed Knowlton. "Yes, I _am_ proud. I have a right to be proud. I do not think, Diana, there is such a pearl in all the waters of Arabia as I shall wear on my hand. I do not believe there is a rose to equal you in all the gardens of the world. Look up, my beauty, and let me see you. I sha'n't have the chance pretty soon." And yielding to the light touch of his fingers under her chin, caressing and persuading, Diana's face was lifted to view. It was like a pearl, for the childlike purity of all its lines; it was like enough a rose, too; like an opening rose, for the matter of that. Her thoughts went back to the elegance of Mrs. Reverdy and Gertrude Masters, and she wondered in herself at Mr. Knowlton's judgment of her; but there was too much of Diana ever to depreciate herself unworthily. She said nothing. "I wonder what will become you best?" said Evan in a very satisfied tone. "Become me?" said Diana lifting her eyes. "Yes. What's your colour?" "I am sure I don't know," said Diana, laughing. "No one in particular, I guess." "Wear everything, can you? I shouldn't wonder! But I think I should like you in white. That's cold for winter--in some regions. I think I should like you in--let me see--show me your eyes again, Diana. If you wear so much rose in your cheeks, my darling," said he, kissing first one and then the other, "I should be safe to get you green. You will be lovely in blue. But of all, _except_ white, I think I should like you, Diana, in royal red." "I thought purple was the colour of kings and queens," Diana remarked, trying to get back to her berries.