She had been perfectly happy and perfectly _ready_, until Luke caught her in his arms. That was it! She didn’t like being touched. Her father had been always bluffly undemonstrative, and Miss Ada’s endearments were verbal only, and she could remember, as a tiny child, her restiveness under her mother’s prolific embraces, and that Mrs. Darrow, little by little, with her sad eyes shining with tears, had given them up. “You are just like your father ...” she had said again and again. So, that explained it! It was simply that she, like her father, was the sort of person who didn’t like kisses. Doubtless there, were many of the same mind. She laughed aloud with the jubilant release from wretchedness. If only it had come to her sooner! Now it was crystal clear; she did love Luke, with her mind, but she didn’t love him with--well, with her arms and her hands and her lips, that was all. She could explain it to him to-morrow, and tell him she was ready and willing to marry him, any day, any hour, if he would only please not touch her. Luke would certainly understand and appreciate it; when she told him that her father, her father, who had meant so much to him--had the same peculiarity, it would justify itself with Luke. People were different, that was all; consider Janice Jennings and the trombone player who looked like lovers and were not in the least, she felt sure; and herself, who looked up to Luke and--and _idolized_ him, but who certainly could not dance with him in that fashion. In the few romances she had read there was a good deal of that sort of thing, to be sure, but she doubted very much if it was so popular in real life.... She exhaled a long, weary, peaceful sigh, turned her hot pillow, slipped her palm beneath her hot cheek and composed herself to sleep.... She was not a wicked ingrate, after all ... she was just ... a little peculiar ... as her father had been peculiar ... to-morrow she would tell Luke ... he would understand ... she did love him ... she just ... didn’t like ... being ... touched.... CHAPTER X _Glen trusts to time to correct her peculiarities, and occupies herself with transforming her house to harmonize with her Wishing Carpet._ THE thing which made her situation easier was the fact of Luke’s greatly increased activities. If he had been hard worked before he became superintendent, he was now a driven slave, only that he drove himself and rejoiced in the driving. He was alert, intense, obsessed. Mr. ’Gene Carey, who had a long-drawn battle with the flu and regained his strength very slowly, commented regretfully upon it but did not see where he could help matters.