"I'll forgive you, if that's what you mean," she responded. "I hadn't really thought about it twice. It isn't of any consequence." "It is to me," he returned. "Now I've changed my mind, and if you will offer the friendship again I'll accept it gladly." "Why, Dr. Demarest!" she said, smiling, but with a flash in her gray eyes, "of course we can be good friends, just as we have always been. And now you needn't talk any more about this foolish misunderstanding." So saying she started ahead. They had been climbing a hill, and now they had on their left a broad meadow, gay with groups of tennis-players. At an opening on the right a mounted policeman sat his horse as immovable as an equestrian statue. Just before them were two gentlemen with impatient trotters trying to get a clear space; and there was also a double file of young men and girls from some riding-school, under the charge of a robust German riding-master. It was not for two or three minutes that Dr. Demarest was able to resume his position by the side of Miss Contoit. "I had to set myself right," he began, abruptly, "because if we really are friends I want you to help me." "I shall be very glad, I'm sure," she replied. "I've told you so already." "But what I want is something very serious," he continued. "What is it?" she asked, drawing away from him a little. "It's advice," he explained. She gave a light laugh of relief. "Oh, _advice_," she repeated; "anybody can give advice." "Not the advice I want," he responded, gravely. "It's a very solemn thing for me, I can assure you." "And what is this very solemn thing?" she inquired, airily. "It's marriage," he answered. "I've got to get married, and--and--" "Don't let's go back to that again," she said, with frank impatience. "I thought we had settled that once for all." "Oh, I didn't mean you," he returned, apologetically. "You didn't mean me?" she repeated, in amazement. "Why, I thought--well, it's no matter what I thought, of course." "I'm afraid I'm getting things all mixed up," he said, calmly. "Of course, you are the only woman I love, and the only woman I ever shall love. I told you that the last time we met, and you told me that you didn't love me--so that settled it." "Well?" she interrogated. "Well, if I can't have what I want," he explained, "I'd better get what I need." "I confess I do not know what you are talking about," she declared. "It's simple enough," he returned. "I'm a doctor, and I'm young--I'm only thirty--and I haven't a bald spot yet, so people think I'm even younger than I am, and they haven't confidence in it. So I've got to get married." The girl laughed out merrily. "Can't you get a bald spot any other way?" she asked.