"I guess this is all a joke to you."

She leaned over and put a tender hand on his arm.

"I don't want to hurt you; but, Joe, I don't want to be engaged yet. I
don't want to think about marrying. There's such a lot to do in the world
first. There's such a lot to see and be."

"Where?" he demanded bitterly. "Here on this Street? Do you want more
time to pull bastings for your mother? Or to slave for your Aunt Harriet?
Or to run up and down stairs, carrying towels to roomers? Marry me and let
me take care of you."

Once again her dangerous sense of humor threatened her. He looked so
boyish, sitting there with the moonlight on his bright hair, so inadequate
to carry out his magnificent offer. Two or three of the star blossoms from
the tree had fallen all his head. She lifted them carefully away.

"Let me take care of myself for a while. I've never lived my own life.
You know what I mean. I'm not unhappy; but I want to do something. And
some day I shall,--not anything big; I know. I can't do that,--but
something useful. Then, after years and years, if you still want me, I'll
come back to you."

"How soon?"

"How can I know that now? But it will be a long time."

He drew a long breath and got up. All the joy had gone out of the summer
night for him, poor lad. He glanced down the Street, where Palmer Howe had