in her mind's eye a leader of movements and of progress. And that with a
man she loved--yes, adored even as he adored her.

So she turned to Littleton with her smile and in tears--the image of
bewitching but pathetic self-justification and surrender. Her mind was
made up; hence why procrastinate and coyly postpone the desirable, and
the inevitable? That was what she had the shrewdness to formulate in the
ecstasy of her transport; and so eloquent was the mute revelation of her
love that Littleton, diffident reverencer of the modesty of woman as he
was, without a word from her clasped her to his breast, a victor in a
breath. As, regardless of the possible invasion of interlopers, he took
her in his embrace, she felt with satisfaction once more the grasp of
masculine arms. She let her head fall on his shoulder in delighted
contentment. While he murmured in succession inarticulate terms of
endearment, she revelled in the thrill of her nerves and approved her
own sagacious and commendable behavior.

"Dearest," she whispered, "you are right. We are right. Since we love
each other, why should we not say so? I love you--I love you. The ugly
hateful past shall not keep us apart longer. You say you loved me from
the first; so did I love you, though I did not know it then. We were
meant for each other--God meant us--did he not? It is right, and we
shall be so happy, Wilbur."

"Yes, Selma." Words seemed to him an inadequate means for expressing his
emotions. He pressed his lips upon hers with the adoring respect of a
worshipper touching his god, yet with the energy of a man. She sighed
and compared him in her thought with Babcock. How gentle this new lover!
How refined and sensitive and appreciative! How intelligent and
gentlemanly!