huge plate of roast-beef before her husband to the dainty dish of wild
strawberries on the sideboard, all was appetizing, and although it was
the day of my destiny, I found myself making a hearty meal. My
beautiful vis-a-vis evidently had no thoughts of destiny, and proved
that the rich blood which mantled her cheeks had an abundant and
healthful source. I liked that too. "There is no sentimental nonsense
about her," I thought, "and her views of life will never be
dyspeptic."

I longed to hear her talk, and yet was pleased that she was not
garrulous. Her father evidently thought that this was his hour and
opportunity, and he seasoned the ample repast with not a little homely
wit and humor, in which his wife would sometimes join, and again curb
and deprecate.

I began to grow disappointed that the daughter did not manifest some
of her mother's quaint and genial good sense, or some sparkle and
piquancy that would correspond to her father's humor: but the few
remarks she made had reference chiefly to the people at the meeting,
and verged toward small gossip.

I broached several subjects which I thought might interest her, but
could obtain little other response than "Yes," with a faint rising
inflection. After one of these unsuccessful attempts I detected a
slight, peculiar smile on Miss Warren's face. It was a mischievous
light in her dark eyes more than anything else. As she met my puzzled
look it vanished instantly, and she turned away. Everything in my
training and calling stimulated alertness, and I knew that smile was
at my expense. Why was she laughing at me? Had she, by an intuition,
divined my attitude of mind? A plague on woman's intuitions! What man