"Was that your poem?" inquired the bachelor as he watched the breeze carry the fragments away over the grass.
The widow shook out her ruffles and picked up her hat.
"You've taken all the poetry out of it," she retorted, as she fled toward the house.
The bachelor looked after her undecidedly for a moment. Then he leaned back lazily and blinked up at the sky between the leaves.
"And this," he said softly, "is the white man's burden."
VI
Signs and Countersigns of Love.
"IF there were only some way," began the bachelor, gazing thoughtfully out of the window of the dining car, "in which a fellow could prove his love——"