seaside, he strongly. urged her to do so.

"Where should you go to?" he asked.

"I think to Hastings. I went there once, when I was a child, with my
mother--I believe I told you. I had rather go there than anywhere
else."

"I feel the need of a change myself," he said, a moment after, and
without looking at her. "Suppose I were to go to Hastings, too--at
the same time that you're there--would you dislike it?"

She merely shook her head, almost indifferently. She did not care to
talk much to-night, and frequently nodded instead of replying with
words.

"But--you would rather I didn't?" he urged.

"No, indeed," still in the same indifferent way. "I should have
company, if I found it dull."

"Then let us go down by the same train--will you, Ida?"

As far as she remembered, it was the first time that he had ever
addressed her thus by her name. She looked up and smiled slightly.

"If you like," was her answer.