“Well, when we’re anywhere together, don’t you think we ought to show how different we are to each other from what we are to any one else.”

Dan laughed.  “I’m afraid we do, Alice; I always supposed one ought to hide that little preference as much as possible.  You don’t want me to be dangling after you every moment?”

“No-o-o.  But not—­dangle after others.”

Dan sighed a little—­a little impatiently.  “Do I dangle after others?”

“Of course not.  But show that we’re thoroughly united in all our tastes and feelings, and—­like and dislike the same persons.”

“I don’t think that will be difficult,” said Dan.

She was silent a moment, and then she said; “You don’t like to have me bring up such things?”

“Oh yes, I do.  I wish to be and do just what you wish.”

“But I can see, I can understand, that you would sooner pass the time without talking of them.  You like to be perfectly happy, and not to have any cares when—­when you’re with me this way?”

“Well, yes, I suppose I do,” said Dan, laughing again.  “I suppose I rather do like to keep pleasure and duty apart.  But there’s nothing you can wish, Alice, that isn’t a pleasure to me.”

“I’m very different,” said the girl.  “I can’t be at peace unless I know that I have a right to be so.  But now, after this, I’m going to do your way.  If it’s your way, it’ll be the right way—­for me.”  She looked sublimely resolved, with a grand lift of the eyes, and Dan caught her to him in a rapture, breaking into laughter.

“Oh, don’t!  Mine’s a bad way—­the worst kind of a way,” he cried.

“It makes everybody like you, and mine makes nobody like me.”

“It makes me like you, and that’s quite enough.  I don’t want other people to like you!”

“Yes, that’s what I mean!” cried Alice; and now she flung herself on his neck, and the tears came.  “Do you suppose it can be very pleasant to have everybody talking of you as if everybody loved you as much—­as much as I do?” She clutched him tighter and sobbed.

“O Alice!  Alice!  Alice!  Nobody could ever be what you are to me!” He soothed and comforted her with endearing words and touches; but before he could have believed her half consoled she pulled away from him, and asked, with shining eyes, “Do you think Mr. Boardman is a good influence in your life?”

“Boardman!” cried Mavering, in astonishment.  “Why, I thought you liked Boardman?”

“I do; and I respect him very much.  But that isn’t the question.  Don’t you think we ought to ask ourselves how others influence us?”

“Well, I don’t see much of Boardy nowadays; but I like to drop down and touch earth in Boardy once in a while—­I’m in the air so much.  Board has more common-sense, more solid chunk-wisdom, than anybody I know.  He’s kept me from making a fool of myself more times—­”

“Wasn’t he with you that day with—­with those women in Portland?”