There was nothing complex about Myra. Her mind was an open book, and he suddenly found he liked it so--liked it tremendously. Her unveiled avowal of preference for him was most soothing to his restless, dissatisfied mood. "Thank you, Myra," he said tenderly, kissing the flower-petal hand before he laid it down. He had a strong impulse to kiss _her_, but resisted it, with an effort, and abruptly changed the subject. "Did you know that we are going to move?" he asked. "And that I'm going to the University next winter?" "_To move_?" she questioned, aghast. "Where?" "To the Gallego mansion, at Fifth and Main Streets. Mr. Allan has bought it. The dear little mother, who, I'd say, if you'd let me, is so much better to me than I deserve, is full of plans for furnishing it and is going to fit up a beautiful room in it for me. It will be a delightful home for us, and quite grand after our modest cottage, but do you know I'm goose enough to be homesick at the thought of giving up my little den under the roof? Myself and I have had such jolly times together in it!" She had scarcely heard him, except the first words and the stunning facts they contained. There was a minute's silence, then she spoke in a changed, quivering voice. "Then that will be the end of our friendship, I suspect! When you get out of the neighborhood, and are off most of the time at the University, we will doubtless see little more of you." Her clear blue eyes were shining up at him through tears. Her mouth was tremulous as a distressed child's. The appeal met an instant response from the tender-hearted poet. _Both_ the flower-like hands were captured this time, and held fast, in spite of their fluttering. The excessively sweet fragrance of the blossom in her hair was in his nostrils. Her quick, short breaths told him of the tempest in her tender young bosom. "Myra, little Myra, do you care like that?" he cried. "Then let the friendship go, and be my dear little sweetheart, won't you? I'm dying of loneliness and the want of somebody to love and to love me--somebody who understands me--and you do, don't you, Myra, darling?" She was too happy to answer, but she suffered him to put his arms around her and kiss her soft pale hair--and her brow--and her tremulous mouth--the first kisses of love to him as well as to her. And ah, how sweet! He laughed happily, lifted out of his gloom by this new, this deliriously sweet dream. "Do you know, little sweetheart," he said, in a voice that was bubbling with joy, "I feel that you have cast those devils out of me forever. It was you that I wanted all the time, and did not know it. Some of these days, when I've been through college and settled down, we will be married, and wherever our home is, we must always have a porch like this, with a rose on it, and" (kissing her brow) "you must always wear a jessamine in your hair."