"Don't you? That's because you are still so hopelessly primeval. People won't give you credit for the good motive; they will quote that Scripture about the dog and the sow. You must think of some other way." "Supposing I say I don't care a hang?" "Oh, but you do. You have your father and mother and--and me to consider, however reckless you may be for yourself and Nancy. You mustn't leave her where she is for a single day." "I can leave her there if I like. I've told her she may stay as long as she wants to." They had paused in front of the great door, and Ardea's hand was on the knob. "No," she said decisively, "you will have a perfect hornets' nest about your ears. Every move you make will be watched and commented on. Don't you see that you are playing the part of the headstrong, obstinate boy again?" "Yet you think I ought to provide for Nan, in some way; how am I going to do it unless I ignore the hornets?" "Now you are more reasonable," she said approvingly. "I shall ride to-morrow morning, and if you should happen to overtake me, we might think up something." The door was opening gently under the pressure of her hand, but he was loath to go. "I wouldn't take five added years of life for what I've learned to-night, Ardea;" he said passionately. And then: "Have you fully made up your mind to marry Vincent Farley?" In the twinkling of an eye she was another woman--cold, unapproachable, with pride kindling as if she had received a mortal affront. "Sometimes--and they are bad times for you, Mr. Gordon--I am tempted to forget the boy-and-girl anchorings in the past. Have you no sense of the fitness of things--no shame?" "Not very much of either, I guess," he said quite calmly. "Love hasn't any shame; and it doesn't concern itself much about the fitness of anything but its object." And then he bade her good night and went his way with a lilting song of triumph in his heart which not even the chilling rebuff of the leave-taking was sufficient to silence. "She loves me! She would still love me if she were ten times Vincent Farley's wife!" he said, over and over to himself; the words were on his lips when he fell asleep, and they were still ringing in his ears the next morning at dawn-break when he rose and made ready to go to ride with her. XXV THE PLOW IN THE FURROW One of Miss Ardea Dabney's illuminating graces was the ability to return easily and amicably to the _status quo ante bellum_; to "kiss and be friends," in the unfettered phrase of Margaret Catherwood, her chum and room-mate at Carroll College.