wag concluded.

"This is the perfection of country life!" said Frederic Chilton,
when, at last, there was a movement to end the sitting. "But it
spoils one fearfully for the everyday practicalities of the city--a
Northern city, especially."

"Better stay where you are, then, instead of deserting our ranks
to-morrow," suggested Rosa, gliding by his side out upon the long
portico at the end of the house. "What does your nature crave that
Ridgeley cannot supply?"

"Work, and a career!"

"You still feel the need of these?" significantly.

"Otherwise I were no man!"

"You are right!"

Her disdainful eyes wandered to the farther end of the portico,
where Alfred Branch, in his natty suit of white grasscloth, plucked
at his ebon whiskers with untanned fingers, and talked society
nothings with the ever-complaisant Imogene.

"Come what may, you, Mr. Chilton, have occupation for thought and
hands; are not tied down to a detestable routine of vapid pleasures
and common-place people!"

"You are--every independent woman and man--is as free in this