"Please come over to the seat beyond the shrubbery, where nobody will see or hear. It’s not a very suitable place, but it’s better than the house this hot night." "Not a suitable place?" queried Murray, as he followed Shirley across the lawn. "Not so fast, child. It is a hot night, and I ’ve only just cooled off since dinner. It was insufferable in the office to-day--or would have been if anybody had had time to stop and think about it. Why is n’t that romantic seat beyond the shrubbery just the place to talk?" "Because the talk has no romance about it. The office would be the place for it, only you ’ve no time to give me if I should come there." "You excite my curiosity." Murray disposed himself comfortably upon the wide rustic seat, screened from all beholders without and within the grounds, not only by shrubbery and hedges, but by the fast deepening July twilight. "Fire away. Anything gone wrong?" "Nothing--except me." "You alarm me." "Don’t joke. I ’m serious." "I see you are. And that’s what alarms me. Seriousness, at eighteen----" "I ’m nineteen--nearly twenty. And I ’m not only serious--I ’m cross. Murray, I want something to do." "Haven’t you plenty? Jane tells me she could n’t get on without you." "Jane is a dear. And I love to help her. But I want to be doing something--else. I want to amount to something. I want to learn something." "Miss Cockburn’s finishing-school didn’t finish then? Is college the bee you have in your bonnet?" "No, I ’m afraid I ’m too unsettled for that now--I don’t know why. Once I spent a whole week trying to convince mother I must go to college instead of to school in England. But I don’t want that any more. I want--Murray, please don’t laugh when I tell you!" "Why should I laugh? It’s plain you mean business of some sort, and I ’m honoured by your confidence. Go ahead, little girl, and don’t be afraid of your big brother." "Well, then, I want to learn stenography and typewriting." It came with a rush, and after it Shirley sat still, one hand holding the other tightly while she waited for the explosion she expected. It did not come. Murray turned his head until she could feel that he was looking directly at her through the dim light. He sat up slightly, and thrust his hands deeper down into his pockets--a masculine action which usually indicates concentration of attention. He was silent for a full minute before he spoke. When he did speak, it was in the tone that one man uses to another when the basis of their intercourse is that of mutual respect. "Would you mind giving me your idea? It’s plain you have thought something out to the end. I need to know it from the beginning, if you want any advice worth while." "I can, now I know that you’re not going to knock me down with arguments against it before you know mine for it."