“Because I wanted to be honest: to let you know the kind of girl I am. And because,” her eyes flooded, “because you’re the first man who ever kissed me like that and--and I didn’t want to let you know it--and I wish I hadn’t let you kiss me now.” She didn’t give him her lips this time. With her face averted, she lay trembling in his arms without a struggle. While his lips wandered from her hair to her cheeks, to her throat, she seemed unconscious of what he was doing. “I do like being kissed by you,” she murmured. “You’re so fragrant, so soft, so sweet, so like a lily,” he whispered. Her finger went up to her mouth. “Am I fragrant? That isn’t me. That’s just soap.” She sprang from his embrace laughing; he joined her in sheer gladness that their quarrel was ended. As they came into sight of the farmhouse she insisted that he should behave himself. “But you’re walking further away from me,” he objected, “than you would from a stranger you’d only just met. No wonder Horace thinks you don’t care for me.” “Well, and who said I did?” She slanted her eyes. “Oh, well---- But before other people, I wish you wouldn’t ignore me so obviously. It makes me humiliated.”. “That’s good for you.” Mr. Sam was splitting logs by the wood-pile. He laid down his ax and came towards them. “You’ve missed it,” he chuckled. “We’ve had a fine old row. They’ve queer notions of enjoying themselves, your city folks.--Has anything happened! I guess it has. When Golden-Hair got through with her snooze, she came down and started things going. She wanted to know whose fault it was that she had a head-ache, and whose fault it was she’d come here, and a whole lot besides. Her beau told her straight that he’d had enough of it, and got the car out. Mr. Dak seemed frightened that it would be his turn next; he said he was going too. So they all piled in, quarreling like mad, a regular happy little party. Daresay they’re still at it.” “But what about us?” Desire looked blank. “How do we get back?” “No need to, unless you’re in a hurry. There’s plenty of room; we’ll be glad to have you. But if you must go, there’s a station ten miles distant; I can get the sleigh out.” Teddy tried to persuade her to stay a day longer. The country was changing her. Who knew what a few more walks in the silver wood might accomplish? New York meant Fluffy, life jigged to rag-time, and the feverish quest for unsatisfying pleasures. She laid her head on her shoulder and winked, like a knowing little bird. She understood perfectly what the country was doing for her. “In these clothes,” she asked, “and borrow the hired man’s tooth-brush? And leave my dear mother alone, and Fluffy to cry her poor little eyes out? And run the risk of what people would think when we both came creeping back? I guess I’d have to marry you then, Meester Deek. No, thanks.”