"I was riding such a high horse that I hardly knew what I said, but I can see that when that was repeated to her with 'thought' instead of 'hoped' it looked as if I was mighty sure she was going to have me, and I hadn't even asked her. Yes, any girl would be indignant, wouldn't she?" Edward scanned Ethel's face, hoping to find some comfort there, but there was none. Ethel's discomfiture and bewilderment had passed and she was putting an unusually acute mind on the situation. She understood perfectly that it looked to Miss Gertrude as if Dr. Watkins had made so sure that she returned his affection that he had gone about talking of it to strangers even before he had told her of his own love. "I don't wonder that she felt humiliated," was Ethel's verdict. The program on the stage was going on swiftly. Helen had made the historical introduction, telling the circumstances that led to the affair of April 19th. Tom had recited "Paul Revere's Ride." It was while the whole Club was singing some quaint Revolutionary songs and winding up with "Yankee Doodle" that Dr. Watkins made his appeal to Ethel Blue. "She won't listen to a word from me," he said. "She won't let me speak to her. Do you think you could find a chance to tell her how it was? It was bad enough but it wasn't as bad as she thinks. Will you tell her I'd like to apologize before I go to Oklahoma?" "Oklahoma!" "A friend of Dr. Hancock's is settled in a flourishing town there. He has a bigger practice than he can attend to, and he sent East for Dr. Hancock to find him an assistant. He has offered the chance to me." "But it's so far away!" "I hesitated a long while on that account. You see I didn't know whether Miss Merriam would care for the West." "Weren't you taking a good deal for granted?" "You're finding me guilty just as she has. But of course a man has to think about what he has to offer a wife. I suppose you think I'm queer to talk about this with you," he broke off his story to say, "but I haven't said a word about it to any one and it has been driving me wild so it's a great relief if you'll let me talk." Ethel nodded. "You see, my practice in New York is so small it's ridiculous. You can't ask a girl to marry you when you aren't making enough money to support even yourself. But suppose I should go to Oklahoma where I shall soon make a good living, and then come back and ask her, and find out that she hates the West. Don't you see that I'm not all to blame?" "Perhaps she wouldn't like you enough to marry you no matter where you lived," suggested Ethel. Edward heaved a sigh that seemed to come from his very boots and leaned back weakly in his chair. "There's a certain brutal frankness about you, Ethel Blue, that I never suspected." "I thought you were thinking about all sides of the question," Ethel defended herself.