"I hate it," she said passionately.

"It was pretty rough going," he said sobered immediately. "A pretty tight squeeze. But you pulled me out of it,—you curious, fragile little child. How did you ever dare?"

"Not such a child as you think," she said rebelliously.

"The idea," he said, laughing gloriously. Then he became serious again. "Dodo, that's what's marvelous about you women. You can go up against the ugliness of life and never—not for an instant—even realize what you touch. Bless your innocence!"

She raised herself on his lap, her hands on his shoulders, looking deep into his unseeing eyes, realizing that he would never comprehend her otherwise. All at once she felt a fierce resolve to defend that illusion.

"Garry," she said tensely, "that's what you want me to be, isn't it—just a child!"

"Dodo could never be anything else!" he said joyfully, oblivious of the recording hand of fate, writing on the woman's heart.

"Then that's what I shall always be," she said softly. She relaxed, cuddling her head against his shoulder, repeating in a tired whisper—"Just a child!"

The rest can be written in a sentence.

She became a conventional member of society,—rather extreme in her conservatism.

THE END

TRANSCRIBER NOTES

Archaic, alternate, and mis-spellings have been retained with the exception of those listed below.

page 81 "species" changed to "specie" (paid her, whenever possible in specie.)

page 136 "your" changed to "you" (What were you planning)