"Oh, no; her people are northern. She was living with an aunt in Philadelphia; tired of her, and skipped out. Another of her modern notions.... She's intelligent; but, then, brains don't marry,--they go to Congress. Or is it the other way? Anyhow, Lyman says that I have no brains." She smiled provocatively. This time he came, in answer to her pouting, unworded bidding. He was heartily glad, as apparently eager arms gave her the desired harborage, that the other girl was by now blocks away. A day or two later he telephoned, and on Friday evening came by the Anderson house at eight. "I'll be down in a minute," she called from the top of the balustrade. The Andersons were away for the month, he recalled. With a pleasant restlessness, he prowled around the cosy living-room, and finally selected a library book on the table. It was by a favorite author; but the title, "A Modern Utopia," was new to him. He was into the second chapter when she appeared. "What a remarkable Wells book!" She smiled at the enthusiasm. "You don't mind walking, do you?... It's stuffy inside." "No indeed. Just a moment." He jotted a memorandum of the volume on a handy envelope back. For all the quiet grace of her face, he noticed that Jane fitted into his stride naturally--and he was a good walker. Instinctively they turned up the hill; the height beyond reached out an irresistible invitation. Her face drew his eyes as inevitably as the mountain drew their feet. The face had sparkled on the Meade porch; but the brisk fingering of the night breeze woke it to a positive radiance. When she turned her eyes upon him, their radiant lashes enclosed darker heavens than those above, framing two stars brighter than Vega. "Tell me about yourself," he urged. "Dorothy said you had 'run away' from your aunt----" "Sounds like a naughty little girl, doesn't it? It wasn't quite that bad, though." "Think of running away to Adamsville!" "It is an 'H' of a place----" She looked quizzically at him; his smile reassured her. "I believe in that kind of hell. But it's nothing, compared to what I left." Her lips closed decidedly. He would not drop the subject. "Your aunt was a doctor, wasn't she? And a politician?" "So you are determined to slice to the skeleton. Yes, she's a doctor, runs her own hospital, and as much of the rest of the city as she can. She had the running habit, Mr. Judson; and, the first few years I was with her, she ran me too ... and then ran me away." Unwilling lips locked, as if unhappy at the recollection. "Just why?"