imagine herself the possible subject of what young ladies call
attentions, and she did not think of herself in that way now. There was
something in the frank, eager boyishness of the invitation that
fascinated her, and the sunny face turned so hopefully upon her had its
amusing eloquence. She looked about the place with an anxiety of which
she was immediately ashamed: all the ladies were out of sight, and
probably at the foot of the cliff.

"Don't say no, Miss Breen," pleaded the gay voice.

The answer seemed to come of itself. "Oh, thank you, yes, I should like
to go."

"Good!" he exclaimed, and the word which riveted her consent made her
recoil.

"But not this morning. Some other day. I--I--I want to think about Mrs.
Maynard. I--ought n't to leave her. Excuse me this morning, Mr. Libby."

"Why, of course," he tried to say with unaltered gayety, but a note of
disappointment made itself felt. "Do you think she's going to be worse?"

"No, I don't think she is. But--" She paused, and waited a space before
she continued. "I 'm afraid I can't be of use to her any longer. She has
lost confidence in me--It's important she should trust her physician."
Libby blushed, as he always did when required to recognize Grace in her
professional quality. "It's more a matter of nerves than anything else,
and if she does n't believe in me I can't do her any good."

"Yes, I can understand that," said the young man, with gentle sympathy;