plunged at once to the bottom of the sea of uncertainty and began to
struggle upward to the light, preferring such a course to the one
where you start at the top, go down and then find yourself powerless
to get back to the surface.

"Was your mother very much annoyed when you said you were coming out
with me?" he asked. She started and a queer little tinge of
embarrassment sprang into her eyes.

"How absurd!" she said, readily, however. "Isn't the avenue
beautiful?"

"I don't know--yet," he said, without looking at the avenue. "What
did she say?" Miss Garrison did not reply, but looked straight ahead
as if she had not heard him. "See here, Dorothy, I'm not a child and
I'm not a lovesick fool. Just curious, that's all. Your mother has
no cause to be afraid of me--"

"You flatter yourself by imagining such a thing as--"

"--because there isn't any more danger that I shall fall in love
with you than there is of--of--well, of your falling in love with me;
and you know how improbable--"

"I don't see any occasion to refer to love in any way," she said,
icily. "Mamma certainly does not expect me to do such an
extraordinary thing. If you will talk sensibly, Phil, we may enjoy
the drive, but if you persist in talking of affairs so ridiculous--"

"I can't say that I expect you to fall in love with me, so for once