"We must, I guess. It had begun to be very pleasant, and--I guess I
have got to go. I can't feel easy about him."

"Why, of course," Mrs. March now assented, and she waved her fan
thoughtfully before her face. I knew what she was thinking of, and
I looked at Miss Gage, who had involuntarily taken the pose and
expression of the moment when I first saw her at the kiosk in
Congress Park. "And Miss Gage?"

"Oh yes; I must go too," said the girl wistfully, forlornly. She
had tears in her voice, tears of despair and vexation, I should have
said.

"That's too bad," said Mrs. March, and, as she did not offer any
solution of the matter, I thought it rather heartless of her to go
on and rub it in. "And we were just planning some things we could
do together."

"It can't be helped now," returned the girl.

"But we shall see you again before you go?" Mrs. March asked of
both.

"Well, I don't know," said the girl, with a look at Mrs. Deering,
who now said -

"I guess so. We'll let you know when we're going." And they got
away rather stiffly.

"Why in the world, my dear," I asked, "if you weren't going to