Joan looked up and smiled and her soft eyes were wistful.
"Kenny, I must study for another year!"
"Another year!" said Kenny blankly. "Colleen, you've the wisdom of the ages in your head right now."
Joan shook her head.
"I must learn to be your wife," she said. "Now it—it dazzles and frightens me—"
"Joan!"
"Have you forgotten, Kenny, that I have lived my life up here in hills and trees. And you—"
"Joan, please!" he begged in distress.
"But I can't forget," said the girl steadily. "Whenever I read the article Garry sent about 'Kennicott O'Neill, brilliant painter'—think of it, Kenny! 'Brilliant painter!'—I go back and read again just to be sure I'm not dreaming. I've been so much alone that the thought of going out into your world with you—terrifies me. I could not bear to have you—sorry!"
"Mavourneen!" he said, shocked.