"Nonsense, beauty!" Lilly cried, glowing all over. "Who thinks of such silliness?" "The person upon whom nature has bestowed such a gift," he went on, "has many reasons for being on her guard. For instance, it's a piece of good luck for you that you chanced upon so strict and correct a young man as I am. Another man with a more frivolous nature than mine would have made an entirely different use of an excursion like this. You may be sure of that." Lilly stared at him. She was carried away by a whirl of obscure and disagreeable thoughts. What did he want of her? Was he reproaching her? Did he scorn her because of her most sacred feelings? "Oh, dear," she said, utterly discomposed. "I wish we were at home." "Understand me," he began again. "I am by no means a Pharisee. I have a thorough comprehension of the weaknesses of human nature. I am only offering you a bit of advice in all modesty, and some day you will thank me for it. It is not for nothing that a fellow has his principles. Should we ever meet again later in life, you will, I hope, not have to be ashamed of the friend of your youth." "If it's a question of shame," something within Lilly cried, "then I ought to feel ashamed now, and of myself." Forward, undignified, ill-bred--that was what she held herself to be for having begged him to take this morning walk. Yet there had been nothing evil in the thing! Where had the evil suddenly come from? The chimes were still making music, the sun was still weaving its net of gold about her. She saw nothing, she heard nothing, so very ashamed she was. She wanted to run away, but did not dare even to stir. As for him he no longer looked as if he needed comforting. His manner expressed the quiet satisfaction a man feels with a piece of work just completed. A blackberry had remained sticking in a crevice in the seat of the bench. "One mustn't get spots on one's clothes," he admonished, and stuck the berry in his mouth, slowly crunching the seeds between his teeth. Lilly pulled herself together, and caught up her work-bag. "What are you carrying there?" he asked. "It looks so heavy." Lilly in terror clutched the bag tight. "Only the house key," she stammered. Then they went home. "If only I could change his mind," she thought, "so that he would have a favorable opinion of me again." Nothing better occurred to her than to stoop at the wayside and pluck the finest field flowers she could reach to offer to him as a farewell gift instead of that other gift, the mere thought of which made her feel like a goose. She handed him the bouquet keeping her eyes turned aside. He thanked her with a pretty bow, and twirled the bamboo cane with the silver handle--an heirloom of which he had just come into possession. He swung it boldly about his head, the way future corps students do before making a high carte. Lilly in her dejection and humiliation was unable to say a word.