"But I hate to come down from the high places," Ogilvie protested. "She's an old tyrant, a materialist!"
He had brought from the intensity of his emotions all a lover's clamoring to prolong the hour alone with the beloved. His visions now went no farther than the sweet reality beside him.
She laughed back at him. "I'm not going to let you offend her, though; I want to keep her always on my side. And we can take our high places with us!"
That turned him serious again for the moment.
"Are you sure," he asked her, "that you can be satisfied to remain here?"
"Here, or anywhere——" She paused, and he, reassured, smiled at her.
"Go on," he urged. "Go on! You were going to say something very nice to me! I want to hear it!"
But she looked curiously embarrassed. "I—I was not going to say anything of the kind! I was thinking of—something!"
Then she took her courage firmly in hand. "John," she said, "did you guess that—that it was I—who—gave that professorship?"
His eyes opened wide. "Why, no!" he said. "Did you? Well, now, I think that was a very good thing to do! How did you happen to think of it?"