"You said----" she flashed, and then grew red. "I said I'd let you ask no pardon of me. I said I'd let myself find no flaw in you. But how does that embarrass my present argument? Flawless perfection would be a mighty difficult thing to live with, day in and day out. Living with a woman who never made a mistake could have no appeal for me. She'd always be emphasizing my own shortcomings. You become consistent and you'll catch me yawning some day; grow logical and you'll almost scare me off! Why, you're a girl!" Her laughter was like a bell on the still air. "And you--you still sit there and insist that perfection has no attraction for you? When you've just described, without knowing it, the--the sort of a girl you think is perfect." His lips curled in a way to quicken any woman's pulse. "You have me beaten," he laughed. His eyes, dark as was the shadow upon his face, made her breath unsteady. "I would like to watch you play poker with Fat Joe. Your game would puzzle him more than a little. Yes, you've surely left me without a leg on which to hobble off, because it would be small spirited in me, wouldn't it, if I were to tell you that you are the exception that makes my general rule hold sound? I wouldn't, however, prescribe such a degree of perfection for any other man's daily diet. It would prove his destruction." "Your own superiority, of course, rendering you immune?" "Maybe." At least, whether she knew it or not, she loved his serenity. "Maybe--and maybe I'm an exception too." He sat very still. She had turned away once more. "You'll be back again in the spring?" he asked with that gentleness he saved for her alone. "I hope--I think so." The smallness of her voice angered her. She feigned a short, carefree laugh. "Unless I am too busy. Getting married seems to become a more and come complicated problem of proper costuming, doesn't it, with every passing season!" She couldn't have told why she said it; she was trying to think of something else to say which would be kinder by far. And then, half lifting her, he had swung her around to him. For a moment he held her, face close to that small, frightened face buried in its deep collar, while she struggled uselessly against those hard arms which tried not to hurt her. Her lips continued to rebel, long after her eyes had closed--long after body and brain were quiescent. "You mustn't!" she gasped. "Oh, I can't let you . . . the moon . . . we--we're sure to be seen!" His lips on hers silenced that last incoherent resistance. She sat, wavy brown head bowed, when he had set her free.