Now when you are reluctant to enter into explanation, and there is something you badly want to do, you never (if you are an ordinary young man) look very far for a reason. The first that comes will serve your turn. If it is a flimsy one, no matter; you then get angry when its flimsiness is pointed out to you, and presently out of your anger and obstinacy you will have found a reason as good as another. John Willie did not at all like those interior smiling taunts of himself that took the form of congratulations on his neatly planned life and pillowed and feathered death to close it. If anybody of his own weight had taunted him thus he would have knocked that person down. But you cannot knock down a whisper that seems to come on the wind from the mountains through the night, making you, your ordered comfort notwithstanding, absolutely wretched. Again John Willie turned to June. "I say, June; this won't do, you know," he said. June looked enquiringly at him. "But we can't do anything but wait, dear, can we?" He did not answer. They waited. Half an hour passed. Then John Willie muttered again that, among so many other things that would "do" beautifully, this particular thing would not "do." June coloured a little. "But--but--it isn't our fault," she murmured, picking at the fingers of her gloves. He saw she understood. Again they waited. Then, suddenly, John Willie came shortly out with that reason that must serve in the stead of his real reason. He knew how lame it was. A score or two of other young couples were in precisely the same situation as they, and more that cheerfully resigned to their plight; but then they were not being goaded and taunted as John Willie was being goaded and taunted. They were not being told that their paths lay, so to speak, on flowers, while the paths of others were the stony road, that cut and blistered the foot, and tired the eyes, and bowed the back (but had no power, perhaps, thus to reproach the heart).... Anyway, John Willie was not disposed to stand it. "June," he said abruptly, "I can't stay up here all night with you." Her wail interrupted him.--"Oh-h-h!----" "It wouldn't do." "Oh-h-h--it isn't our fault----" "No, but that can't be helped. The woman I marry----" "Oh-h-h--but there isn't anything to do!" "Oh, yes there is. We needn't be together. I can get into another car or something. It will only be like walking along the footboard of a train." She gave a little shriek.--"Oh--if you do I shall throw myself out--I know I shall!----" "You won't do anything so silly. Get up, dear; I've quite made up my mind. I tell you it wouldn't do. The woman I marry...."