"Well," he said, "you have amused yourself all summer, I suppose. You
made me think you loved me, and everybody else thought so, too."

The hint of blame kept Lois from feeling the sting of conscience. She
flung her head back, and looked at him with a flash of indignation in her
eyes. "Do you think it's manly to blame me? You had better blame yourself
that you couldn't win my love!"

"Do you expect a man to choose his words when you give him his
death-blow?" he said; and then, "Oh, Miss Lois, if I wait, can't you
learn to care for me? I'll wait,--a year, if you say there's any hope.
Or do you love anybody else? Is that the reason?"

"That has nothing to do with it," Lois cried, hotly, "but I don't."

"Then," said Dick eagerly, "you must love me, only you don't recognize
it, not having been in love before. Of course it's different with a girl
who doesn't know what love is. Oh, say you do!"

Lois, with quick compunction for her anger, was gentle enough now. "I
cannot say so. I wish you would forget me, and forgive me if you can. I'm
sorry to have grieved you,--truly I am."

There was silence for a few minutes, only broken by a yawn from Max and
the snapping of the fire.

"I tell you I cannot forget," the young man said, at last. "You have
ruined my life for me. Do you think I'll be apt to forget the woman
that's done that? I'll love you always, but life is practically over for
me. Remember that, the next time you amuse yourself, Miss Howe!" Then,