Under the influence of this companionship, under cloudless skies and in the heart of the June weather, Christina finally yielded to an arrangement which brought Eugene into a relationship which he had never dreamed possible with her. They had progressed by degrees through all the subtleties of courtship. They had come to discuss the nature of passion and emotion, and had swept aside as negligible the conviction that there was any inherent evil in the most intimate relationship. At last Christina said frankly: "I don't want to be married. It isn't for me--not until I've thoroughly succeeded, anyhow. I'd rather wait--If I could just have you and singleness too." "Why do you want to yield yourself to me?" Eugene asked curiously. "I don't know that I exactly want to. I could do with just your love--if you were satisfied. It's you that I want to make happy. I want to give you anything you want." "Curious girl," observed her lover, smoothing her high forehead with his hand. "I don't understand you, Christina. I don't know how your mind works. Why should you? You have everything to lose if worst came to worst." "Oh, no," she smiled. "I'd marry you then." "But to do this out of hand, because you love me, because you want me to be happy!" he paused. "I don't understand it either, honey boy," she offered, "I just do." "But why, if you are willing to do this, you wouldn't prefer to live with me, is what I don't understand." She took his face between her hands. "I think I understand you better than you do yourself. I don't think you'd be happy married. You might not always love me. I might not always love you. You might come to regret. If we could be happy now you might reach the point where you wouldn't care any more. Then you see I wouldn't be remorseful thinking that we had never known happiness." "What logic!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean to say you wouldn't care any more?" "Oh, I'd care, but not in the same way. Don't you see, Eugene, I would have the satisfaction of knowing that even if we did separate you had had the best of me." It seemed astounding to Eugene that she should talk in this way--reason this way. What a curious, sacrificial, fatalistic turn of mind. Could a young, beautiful, talented girl really be like this? Would anybody on earth really believe it if they knew? He looked at her and shook his head sorrowfully. "To think that the quintessence of life should not stay with us always." He sighed. "No, honey boy," she replied, "you want too much. You think you want it to stay, but you don't. You want it to go. You wouldn't be satisfied to live with me always, I know it. Take what the gods provide and have no regrets. Refuse to think; you can, you know." Eugene gathered her up in his arms. He kissed her over and over, forgetting in her embrace all the loves he had ever known. She yielded herself to him gladly, joyously, telling him over and over that it made her happy.