on her tuition. It was Margaret's opinion that her study of music was to be the serious pursuit of her life; her mother considered a musical education merely an aid to matrimony, an alluring springtime accomplishment for young ladies who had not yet mated and built their nests. These opinions had clashed when Margaret had rejected the man who wore such detestable shoes. They were still at war. The financial crisis had made the struggle more desperate. Mrs. Richardson evidently looked for an immediate marriage to relieve her of the expense of a daughter. Margaret planned to make herself self-supporting so that she might be free to follow her ambitions. Don was to help her. He promised that he would.
He came to his evening's meeting with Miss Morris, resolved to appeal again to her for aid; but since their parting in the rain at Mrs. Kahrle's steps, she had had an unfrank manner that made confidences impossible. She had not met his eyes squarely when he confronted her with his usual friendliness. Her smile, in their stage promenades, had been merely formal. Several times, seated at the rustic table with her, he had looked up to find her watching him with a thoughtful intensity that startled him. She maintained an oblique reserve, a sort of sidelong watchful silence which let him know that she was thinking of him, and made him feel that she was disappointed in him, but left it impossible for him to defend himself.
Now, when he tried to make her meet him frankly with her blame—by telling her that Margaret had arrived and confessing the girl's unhappy circum-
