"Self-sufficient!" Roberts caught the dominant word and dwelt on it meditatively. "I suppose I am that way. It never occurred to me before." The big hands tightened suddenly, their weariness gone. "But let's forget it," he digressed energetically. "This is the last time I'll see you for a long time, months at least; and a lot can happen in months sometimes. The future is the Lord's, but the present is ours. Let's enjoy it while we may. What, by the way, are you going to do the remainder of the Summer?" "Do?" The girl laughed shortly. "What I'm doing now, I fancy, mostly. Father will be away the first week in September. I promised Margery I'd stay with her during that time; otherwise--" A gesture completed the sentence. Roberts looked at her oddly. "Is that what you want to do--you?" he asked bluntly. "Want to do?" Again the laugh. "What does it matter what I want to do?" She caught herself suddenly. "Margery and I may go away to a lake somewhere during that week," she completed. "And after that?" suggested the man. "The university will be open then. I've secured a place this year,--assistant in English." "You're really serious, Elice?" soberly. "This is news to me, you know. You really purpose teaching in future?" "Yes." She returned her companion's look steadily. "Father was not reappointed for the coming session. He's over the age line. I supposed you knew." "No; I didn't know before." Without apparent reason Roberts stood up. The great hands were working again. A moment he stood there so, the big bushy head outlined distinctly against the starlit sky; with equal abruptness he returned to his seat. "What a farce this is you and I are playing," he said. "Do you really wish it to go on longer?" The girl did not look at him, did not move. "Farce?" she echoed. The man gestured swiftly. "Don't do that, please," he prevented. "You and I know each other entirely too well to pretend. I repeat, do you wish this travesty to go on indefinitely? If you do I accept, of course--but--do you?" Instinctively, as on a former occasion, the girl drew her chair farther back on the porch, until her face was in the shadow. It was out of the shadow that she spoke. "Prefer it to go on? Yes," she said; "because I wish you to remain as you are now. But really wish it, no; because it's unfair, wholly unfair." "Unfair to me?" "Yes, to you." For the second time Roberts gestured. "Take that consideration out of the discussion absolutely, please," he said. "With that understanding do you still wish this pretence to go on?" "I wish to keep your friendship."