contact with her broad understanding of things would have tempered your
sex insularity." He glanced pityingly at Diane. "You've fire and
vision, Diane," he said bluntly, "but you're intolerant. It's a
Westfall trait." He laughed softly. "How scornfully you used to laugh
and jeer at boys, because you were swifter of foot and keener of vision
than any of them, because you could leap and run and swim like a wild
thing! Intolerance again, Diane, even as a youngster!"

He rose restlessly, smiling down at her with a lazy expression of
deference in his eyes.

"Wonderful, beautiful lady of fire and ebony!" he said gently, with a
bewildering change of mood which brought the vivid color to Diane's
dark cheek. "There's the wild, sweet wine of the forest in your very
blood! And it's always calling!"

"Yes," nodded Diane wistfully, "it's always calling. How did you know?"

"By the wizardry of eye and intuition!" he laughed lightly. "And the
personal consideration," he added pleasantly; "we've come at last to
that."

A tide of color swept brightly over Diane's face.

"Surely, Carl," she exclaimed with a swift, level glance, "you don't
mean that you care?"

"No," said Carl honestly, "I don't. I mean just this. Will you permit
me to care? To-night as you stood there in the doorway I knew for the
first time that, if I chose, I could love you very greatly."