Miss Richmond once more seemed astounded by this unmistakable evidence of an intention on his part to end their friendship absolutely. She looked at him incredulously, then questioningly, then haughtily. She put the note in her pocket, rose and stood very straight and dignified. “That is rude,” she said. “Yes, it is rude,” admitted he. “But you have left me no alternative. There is only the one way to avoid being drawn into deceptions that are most distasteful to me.” She eyed him as if measuring his will. She saw no sign of yielding. “You think I’m contemptible, don’t you?” said she, her tone friendly again. “I do not presume to judge you. You have your own scheme of life, I mine. They are different--that is all. I don’t ask you to accept mine. You must not ask me to accept yours. You must not--shall not--entangle me in yours.” She leaned against a tree, gazed thoughtfully at the rainbow appearing and disappearing on the little waterfall. When she returned to him her face was sweet and sad. He glanced up from his work, hastily fixed his gaze on it again. “You are right--absolutely right,” she said. “I’ve always done as I pleased. And everyone round me--the family, the servants, the governesses--everyone--has humored and petted me and encouraged me to take my own way.” “I understand,” said he. “The wonder is--” But he deemed it wise not to say what the wonder was. “You really can’t blame me, Chang, can you, for having got into the habit of thinking whatever I please to do is right?” “Certainly I don’t blame you, Rix,” said he gently. “Considering what you’ve probably been through, you’re amazing. In the same circumstances I’d have been unfit to live.” “You don’t despise me?” asked she eagerly. “Despise you? Why, I couldn’t despise anybody. It’s a roomy world--room for all kinds.” “You like me? Not love,” she hastened to explain, “just like. Do you?” He smiled his friendliest. “Sure! You’re about the nicest girl I ever met--when you want to be.” “Thank you,” she said, tears in her eyes; and she dropped back into her reverie, he resuming his work. There was a long pause between them--a pause filled by the song of birds thronging the foliage above and around them, and by the soft music of the falling waters. “Sometimes I think it’s an awful bad thing for people to have all the money they want--to be rich,” said she pensively. “That’s one trouble with our family.” “Why, you told me you had to marry for money,” said Roger, much surprised. He hated liars; he was loath to believe that she had lied to him. She looked miserably confused. “You didn’t understand quite,” she replied hastily. “And I can’t explain--not now. You mustn’t ask me.” “Ask you? It’s none of my business.” “I didn’t mean--I didn’t mean to deceive you,” pleaded she. “But--I can’t explain now.”