The girl thrilled with a delicious sense of adventure. She trembled with the foretaste of a new delight. The passing praise of her looks and of her newly acquired maturity, a novel sound in her ears, was not lost upon her; but even that was dwarfed by the tenor of her companion's words, and the wonderful current that ran from his hands to hers. Was this what had been meant, that truant afternoon, by the calling birds, the leafing trees and the poignant air along the river? Was this what young women felt when lovers told their love? She could not have formulated the questions, but her heart asked them, and Max, meanwhile, was repeating: "I'll get you avay from here!" "How--how could you do it?" she gasped. "It'd be dead easy. If there's any scrap, you vatch your chanc't un' give the house the slip. I'll be vaitin' at the hotel till midnight. Delephone me from the nearest drugstore, un' ve'll take a trolley down the line un' catch a train to N'York un' be married there this same nighd. I've a friend who's a minister un' vill get out of his bed any hour I'd ask him." He pressed her hands tighter, and, as he leaned against the tree, drew her slightly toward him. But Mary, though she did not know why, still fearful, held back. "I--we couldn't do that," she said. "Vhy not?" he demanded. "Because--why, we couldn't go away together, alone: it wouldn't be right." Max straightened suddenly. He released her hands and placed one tight arm about her waist. "It vould be righd if I _lofed_ you," he said. "Und I do lof you. Ve city folk, ve can't do things slow-like you liddle town people. Vhen I saw you this morning, I knew I liked you, because you vas so different from all these rubes around here; un' vhen I talk vith you this efenin' I know I lof you. Listen here: you come avay with me to-_nighd_. Ve vill go righd ofer to N'York, un' there ve get married righd avay. No more school, nor dishvashin', nor scoldin'. Your own fader vill be pleased vhen it's ofer, because my fader is reech, un' my fader vill be pleased too, because he's been devilin' me to marry for more'n a ye-ar, only I nefer till now found a girl I _lof_. Come on, Mary: I lof you!" Her eyes swam in a mist. They had come then--love and freedom, hand in hand. Her soul grew faint within her. She struggled a little, fluttering like a young bird in a capturing palm, but he drew her tighter, and his free hand passed electrically across her cheek. "Come on avay!" he urged softly. "I--I don't know what to do!" she panted. "Wait--wait "--it was the ancient cry of womanhood upon the brink--"wait till to-morrow!" There was a step behind them, which Max was the first to hear. He freed her, and they stood mute until the shadowy passer-by had gone. It was an incident that at least lessened the spell. "Perhaps it's all right," said Mary. "Perhaps Etta didn't see me, an' I can tell 'em I was over at my girl-friend's."