"I've loved it," said Julia graciously, for she could be generous.

They walked home, according to her wishes, for it was a perfect night,
and she a robust young creature who loved to give her energy a fling.
She walked with a peculiar effect of hope and buoyancy, in spite of
her habit of sombre sayings, and Rokeby found a pleasure in noting
her. She looked what she was, a woman who had never yet encountered
defeat.

This did not rouse in him the hunting desire to run her to earth, or
to the dead wall against which she would sturdily plant that fine back
of hers, and to vanquish her vainglory; but it made him softer, more
protective of her than he had felt before; it made him wish that
always she would keep this spirit and courage which burned like a
brave candle in the mists of life. As they said good-bye upon the
imposing pillar-guarded steps of her boarding-house--called in modern
fashion a Ladies' Club--he held her hand longer than he had ever
imagined he might want to hold the hand of this dragon of a girl.

"Be happy," he adjured her, "don't take other folks' troubles upon
you; let 'em settle their own. Haven't you enough to do?"

"I always feel that there is no end to what I could do," Julia
confessed.

"Yes, you generous thing!" Rokeby cried, "but don't abuse yourself.
There--you don't want my advice, do you? Forgive me! And thank you so
much for an interesting evening. And--and--good night."

He stood at the bottom of the steps watching reluctantly while Julia