"I have—and she has written."
"But you never can write all. Did she bring me the branch of mulberry from Mt. Vesuvius?"
"Yes, and will bring it to you next week. She said she would come to you because she was sure you would not want to leave school; and she wants to see Miss Prudence. I told her she would wish herself a girl again, and it was dangerous for her to come, but she only laughed. I have brought you something, too, Marjorie," he said unsteadily.
But Marjorie ignored it and asked questions about Linnet and her home on shipboard.
"Have I changed, Marjorie?"
"No," she said. "You cannot change for the better, so why should you change at all?"
"I don't like that," he returned seriously; "it is rather hard to attain to perfection before one is twenty-one. I shall have nothing to strive for. Don't you know the artist who did kill himself, or wanted to, because he had done his best?"
"You are perfect as a boy—I mean, there is all manhood left to you," she answered very gravely.
He colored again and his blue eyes grew as cold as steel. Had he come to her to-night in the storm to have his youth thrown up at him?
"Marjorie, if that is all you have to say to me, I think I might better go."