altogether from the exertion of his steep and rapid climb.
``Jen, I'm mad about you,'' he said, his brown eyes soft and
luminous with passion. ``I've done nothing but think about you
in the week you've been back. I didn't sleep last night, and
I've come up here as early as I dared to tell you--to ask you to
marry me.''

He did not see the triumph she felt, the joy in having subdued
another of these insolently superior males. Her eyes were
discreetly veiled; her delightful mouth was arranged to express
sadness.

``I thought I was an ambition incarnate,'' continued the young
man, unwittingly adding to her delight by detailing how brilliant
her conquest was. ``I've never cared a rap about women--until I
saw you. I was all for politics--for trying to do something to
make my fellow men the better for my having lived. Now--it's all
gone. I want you, Jen. Nothing else matters.''

As he paused, gazing at her in speechless longing, she lifted her
eyes--simply a glance. With a stifled cry he darted forward,
dropped beside her on the bench and tried to enfold her in his
arms. The veins stood out in his forehead; the expression of his
eyes was terrifying.

She shrank, sprang up. His baffled hands had not even touched
her. ``David Hull!'' she cried, and the indignation and the
repulsion in her tone and in her manner were not simulated,
though her artfulness hastened to make real use of them. She
loved to rouse men to frenzy. She knew that the sight of their