And yet and yet!  That strained look on her face!  A gnawing sorrow is there all the time.  Her very soul is in her eyes and she would give worlds to be in the privacy of her own familiar chamber where, giving way to tears, she could have a good cry and relieve her pentup feelingsthough not too much because she knew how to cry nicely before the mirror.  You are lovely, Gerty, it said.  The paly light of evening falls upon a face infinitely sad and wistful.  Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain.  Yes, she had known from the very first that her daydream of a marriage has been arranged and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs Reggy Wylie T. C. D. (because the one who married the elder brother would be Mrs Wylie) and in the fashionable intelligence Mrs Gertrude Wylie was wearing a sumptuous confection of grey trimmed with expensive blue fox was not to be.  He was too young to understand.  He would not believe in love, a woman’s birthright.  The night of the party long ago in Stoer’s (he was still in short trousers) when they were alone and he stole an arm round her waist she went white to the very lips.  He called her little one in a strangely husky voice and snatched a half kiss (the first!) but it was only the end of her nose and then he hastened from the room with a remark about refreshments.  Impetuous fellow!  Strength of character had never been Reggy Wylie’s strong point and he who would woo and win Gerty MacDowell must be a man among men.  But waiting, always waiting to be asked and it was leap year too and would soon be over.  No prince charming is her beau ideal to lay a rare and wondrous love at her feet but rather a manly man with a strong quiet face who had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, and who would understand, take her in his sheltering arms, strain her to him in all the strength of his deep passionate nature and comfort her with a long long kiss.  It would be like heaven.  For such a one she yearns this balmy summer eve.  With all the heart of her she longs to be his only, his affianced bride for riches for poor, in sickness in health, till death us two part, from this to this day forward.

And while Edy Boardman was with little Tommy behind the pushcar she was just thinking would the day ever come when she could call herself his little wife to be.  Then they could talk about her till they went blue in the face, Bertha Supple too, and Edy, little spitfire, because she would be twentytwo in November.  She would care for him with creature comforts too for Gerty was womanly wise and knew that a mere man liked that feeling of hominess.  Her griddlecakes done to a goldenbrown hue and queen Ann’s pudding of delightful creaminess had won golden opinions from all because she had a lucky hand also for lighting a fire, dredge in the fine selfraising flour and always stir in the same direction, then cream the milk and sugar and whisk well the white of eggs though she didn’t like the eating part when there were any people that