“You should be the best judge of your actions, Miss Vernor.”

Gerald bowed without answer, and moved past him like an offended duchess.  Halloway stood looking after her with an amused sparkle in his eyes.  “Miss Geraldine Vernor,” he said to himself, “with all your beauty and your reputed accomplishments and intellect, you would yet do well to take a few lessons of my little friend Phebe Lane.”

CHAPTER VII.

TRIED AS BY FIRE.

“Gerald, what are you thinking of?”

“I was wondering how soon you would let us have the lamp.”

“I’ll get it immediately, if you like, but it’s so pleasant talking in the twilight.  I could spend hours contentedly sitting here so with you.”

“How reprehensibly idle!”

“No, I should be learning something all the time.  You have always something to teach me.  Or if you didn’t feel like talking, I could just sit still and hold your hand and not need any thing more.”

Gerald put her hand instinctively out of reach.  “I beg you won’t try it.  I hate having my hand held.”

“Yes, I know you do.  You hate being kissed, too.  You hate being admired and made a fuss over.  I don’t suppose any thing would induce you to let me call you a pet name.  O Gerald, I do wish you liked being loved!”

“But I do like it well enough.  Of course every one likes being cared for and all that sort of thing.  It’s only the gushing and spooning and sentimentalizing that I can’t endure.  I never could, even as a child.”

Phebe sat suddenly upright, away from Gerald.  Perhaps even the mute caress of her attitude jarred upon her friend.  “To me the half of being loved would be the being told so,” she said.  “I should never weary of hearing it said over and over again.”

“Bah!” ejaculated Gerald, “it would make me sick!” She got up as if the very thought were too much for her, and going to the window stood still there looking out.  Phebe followed her with her eyes.

“I am afraid you are fated to be deadly sick all your life through, Gerald.  What will you do with your lovers?”

“Dismiss them.”

“All?”

“All but one.”

“What will you do with him?”

“Marry him, of course.  That is what he will be there for, won’t it?  I expect to marry some one some time.  Marriage makes a woman’s life fuller and freer, though not necessarily happier.  I want to get all into my life that I can.”

“I wonder whom you will marry,” mused Phebe, where she sat curled up on the sofa.  “I wonder what he could be like.  Gerald, how I should like to see you in love!”

“You won’t see it,” replied Gerald.  “No one will ever see it.  It wouldn’t be my way to make a display of the insanity, supposing, that is, that I have it.”

“I hope at least you will show it to him.”

“Not overmuch even to him.  He’ll have to take it on faith.  I haven’t the faintest intention of informing any one of the state of my affections a dozen times a day.  Once for all ought to be sufficient with the declaration, as it is with the marriage vow.”