"I suppose you've engaged yourself again?" Her tone was hard at the thought of love-making. Grace withdrew her caress. "I have never been engaged before," she said distinctly. "Then you've told me lies, twice. A good thing I didn't believe them!" "You're hateful! You know the other times were only folly." "Yes, I knew, but I didn't know you did. I shouldn't tell anyone else about this if I were you. It won't last long." "It will last for ever and ever." She took off her hat. "Don't you want to know who it is?" "Is it that Wilkinson with the undeveloped head?" "It's a beautiful head--classic. Theresa, you are horrid. I thought you would understand." "I do, and I'm not a bit disturbed. He will never be my brother-in-law. You've too much sense--somewhere. Now do your crying, and then get into bed. It's rather cold all alone." "I'm burning," said Grace. She would not be snubbed, and she hummed gaily instead of weeping. "Did he ask you to-night?" said Theresa, unwillingly curious. "Yes." "Where?" "I'm not going to tell you." "Oh, all right. I asked Bessie to leave out your milk and biscuits. Did you have them?" "Milk! Biscuits! As if I could eat anything at a time like this! You are the most unromantic person." "It's safer," said Theresa wearily. She made a deeper nest for her tawny head, and dismissed Grace's light affairs. They became negligible in the face of the tragedy she knew, and with the closing of her eyes she shut them from her mind. She prayed that sleep would bring the mountains, the clean mountains which, after all, could not be smirched by human beings, and they came to her. She saw them, tall, dark, superb, and inviolable, and she woke with something of their courageous peace. CHAPTER XIII Theresa had not the prophetic gift, but she garnered her experiences; she had good judgment and, when it pleased her, she could use wisdom in her dealings with her kind, so that, two months later, when Grace came to her, sore over the sufferings of the young man with the undeveloped head, yet still determined to be cruel to him, Theresa received her without surprise or any reference to the promised eternity of Grace's love. "It was a great mistake," Grace said ingenuously. "I'm afraid I like admiration, and I can't help liking people who give it me." "You must like the whole world, then. What a big heart to carry!" "It's not quite as big as that, and you take up a lot of room in it, Terry, though you think I'm such a silly." "You'll improve," said Theresa cheerfully.