pale statues and box hedges; and always there was his sparkling glance,
his quick voice.

She would never own her soul until she forgot George. Until she put
him out of her life; until the thought of him would not make her burn
hot with humiliation; until the thought of him would not thrill to her
finger-tips.

She found Cope's easy and humorous companionship a balance for her
hidden emotions. And when Louise Cope came, she proved to be a rather
highly emphasized counterpart of her brother. Her red-gold hair was
thick and she wore it bobbed. Her skin was white but lacked the look
of delicacy which seemed to contradict constantly Cope's vivid
personality. She seemed to laugh at the world as he did. She called
Becky "quaint," but took to her at once.

"Archie has been writing to me of you," she told Becky; "he says you
came up like a bird from the south."

"Birds don't fly north in the fall----"

"Well, you were the--miracle," Cope asserted.

Louise Cope's shrewd glance studied him. "He has fallen in love with
you, Becky Bannister," was her blunt assurance, "but you needn't let it
worry you. As yet it is only an aesthetic passion. But there is no
telling what may come of it----"

"Does he fall in love--like that?" Becky demanded.