“It may have been a lie, all right,” she said with forced indifference; “I’ve had time to think it over. You are too young. You don’t know what you want.” She stopped his protestations: “Well, then, _I_ am too old and I don’t want to be tied down.” When he pressed her to tell him whether or not she had ceased to care for him, she shook her head slowly, marking on the ground fine tracery with the end of her coral parasol. He had been obliged to take her back to the red motor, but before they were in earshot of her servants, he said: “Now, you know just what you have done to me, you and Ruggles between you. For my father’s sake and the things I believed in I’ve kept pretty straight as things go.” He nodded at her with boyish egotism, throwing all the blame on her. “I want you to understand that from now, right now, I’m going to the dogs just as fast as I can get there, and it won’t be a very gratifying result to anybody that ever cared.” She saw the determination on his fine young face, worn by his sleepless nights, already matured and changed, and she believed him. “Paris,” he nodded toward the gate of the woods which opened upon Paris, “is the place to begin in—right here. A man,” he went on, and his lips trembled, “can only feel like this once in his life. You know all the talk there is about young love and first love. Well, that’s what I’ve got for you, and I’m going to turn it now—right now—into just what older people warn men from, and do their best to prevent. I have seen enough of Paris,” he went on, “these days I have been looking for you, to know where to go and what to do, and I am setting off for it now.” She touched his arm. “No,” she murmured. “No, boy, you are not going to do any such thing!” This much from her was enough for him. He caught her hand and cried: “Then you marry me. What do we care for anybody else in the world?” “Go back and get your hat and stick and gloves,” she commanded, keeping down the tears. “No, no, you come with me, Letty; I’m not going to let you run to your motor and escape me again.” “Go; I’ll wait here,” she promised. “I give you my word.” As he snatched up the inanimate objects from the leaf-strewn ground where he had thrown them in despair, he thought how things can change in a quarter of an hour. For he had hope now, as he hurried back, as he walked with her to her car, as he saw the little coral shoes stir in the leaves when she passed under the trees. The little coral shoes trod on his heart, but now it was light under her feet! Jubilant to have overcome the fate which had tried to keep her hidden from him in Paris, he could hardly believe his eyes that she was before them again, and, as the motor rolled into the Avenue des Acacias, he asked her the question uppermost in his mind: “Are you alone in Paris, Letty?” “Don’t you count?” “No—no—honestly, _you know what I mean_.” “You haven’t any right to ask me that.”