Consciously or unconsciously one must make some concessions to every situation or every situation would be impossible. Temple was here--interested, pleased to see her, glad to talk to her. But he was not at all inclined to be in love with her: that had been only a silly fancy of hers--in Paris. He had made up his mind by now who it was that he cared for. And it wasn't Betty. Probably she hadn't even been one of the two he came to Grez to think about. He was only a good friend--and she wanted a good friend. If he were not just a good friend the situation would be impossible. And Betty chose that the situation should be possible. For it was pleasant. It was a shield and a shelter from all the thoughts that she wanted to hide from. "If she thinks I'm going to break my heart about _him_, she's mistaken. And so's He. I must be miserable for a bit," said Betty bravely, "but I'll not be miserable forever, so he needn't think it. Of course, I shall never care for anyone ever again--unless he were to love me for years and years before he ever said a word, and then I might say I would try.--_And_ try. But fall in love?--Never again! Oh, good gracious, there he is,--and I've not _begun_ to get ready." Temple was whistling _Deux Amants_ very softly in the courtyard below. She put her head out of the window. "I shan't be two minutes," she said, "You might get the basket from Madame; and my sketching things are on the terrace all ready strapped up." The hoofs of the smart gray pony slipped and rattled on the cobble-stones of the hotel entry. "Au revoir: amuse yourselves well, my children." Madame Chevillon stood, one hand on fat hip, the other shading old eyes that they might watch the progress of the cart up the blinding whiteness of the village street. "To the forest, and yet again to the forest and to the forest always," she said, turning into the darkened billiard room. "Marie, beware, thou, of the forest. The good God created it express for the lovers,--but it is permitted to the devil to promenade himself there also." "Those two there," said Marie--"it is very certain that they are in love?" "How otherwise?" said Madame. "The good God made us women that the men should be in love with us--and afterwards, to take care of the children. There is no other use that a man has for a woman. Friendship? The Art?--Bah! When a man wants those he demands them of a man. Of a woman he demands but love, and one gives it to him--one gives it to him without question!" The two who had departed for the forest drove on through the swimming, spinning heat, in silence. It was not till they reached the little old well by Marlotte that Betty spoke. "Don't let's work to-day, Mr. Temple," she said. "My hands are so hot I could never hold a brush. And your sketch is really finished, you know." "What would you like to do?" asked Temple: "river?"