feel so too. But I'm free to admit I wasn't a promising case in those
days." His glance played over her for a moment. "Say, Undine--it was
good while it lasted, though, wasn't it?"

She shrank back with a burning face and eyes of misery.

"Why, what's the matter? That ruled out too? Oh, all right. Look at
here, Undine, suppose you let me know what you ARE here to talk about,
anyhow."

She cast a helpless glance down the windings of the wooded glen in which
they had halted.

"Just to ask you--to beg you--not to say anything of this kind
again--EVER--"

"Anything about you and me?"

She nodded mutely.

"Why, what's wrong? Anybody been saying anything against me?"

"Oh, no. It's not that!"

"What on earth is it, then--except that you're ashamed of me, one way
or another?" She made no answer, and he stood digging the tip of his
walking-stick into a fissure of the asphalt. At length he went on in a
tone that showed a first faint trace of irritation: "I don't want to
break into your gilt-edged crowd, if it's that you're scared of."