that way." But he had scarcely time to feel anything before she walked
quickly away, and he followed her down the steps, along the garden path,
under the pink rose arches, across the lawn. There, with the gay
herbaceous border behind her, Anne faced Reginald. "It isn't that I'm not
awfully fond of you," she said. "I am. But"--her eyes widened--"not in
the way"--a quiver passed over her face--"one ought to be fond of--" Her
lips parted, and she couldn't stop herself. She began laughing. "There,
you see, you see," she cried, "it's your check t-tie. Even at this moment,
when one would think one really would be solemn, your tie reminds me
fearfully of the bow-tie that cats wear in pictures! Oh, please forgive me
for being so horrid, please!"

Reggie caught hold of her little warm hand. "There's no question of
forgiving you," he said quickly. "How could there be? And I do believe I
know why I make you laugh. It's because you're so far above me in every
way that I am somehow ridiculous. I see that, Anne. But if I were to--"

"No, no." Anne squeezed his hand hard. "It's not that. That's all wrong.
I'm not far above you at all. You're much better than I am. You're
marvellously unselfish and...and kind and simple. I'm none of those
things. You don't know me. I'm the most awful character," said Anne.
"Please don't interrupt. And besides, that's not the point. The point
is"--she shook her head--"I couldn't possibly marry a man I laughed at.
Surely you see that. The man I marry--" breathed Anne softly. She broke
off. She drew her hand away, and looking at Reggie she smiled strangely,
dreamily. "The man I marry--"

And it seemed to Reggie that a tall, handsome, brilliant stranger stepped
in front of him and took his place--the kind of man that Anne and he had
seen often at the theatre, walking on to the stage from nowhere, without a