"I did n't realize until this last week how--well, how comfortable it was having you around," he confessed. She glanced up. "Yes," she said, "that's the word. I think we've made each other comfortable. After all--that's something." "It's a whole lot." "And it need n't ever be anything else, need it?" "Certainly not," he declared. "That would spoil everything. That's what we're trying to avoid." To his surprise, she suddenly rose as if to leave. "Look here!" he exclaimed. "Can't we settle this right now--so that we won't have to worry about it?" He disliked having anything left to worry about. "I should think the least you'd expect of me would be to think it over," she answered. "It would be so much simpler just to go ahead," he declared. There seemed to be no apparent reason in the world why she should not assent to Monte's proposal. In and of itself, the arrangement offered her exactly what she craved--the widest possible freedom to lead her own life without let or hindrance from any one, combined with the least possible responsibility. As far as she could see, it would remove once and for all the single fretting annoyance that, so far, had disarranged all her plans. Monte's argument was sound. Once she was married, the world of men would let her alone. So, too, would the world of women. She could face them both with a challenge to dispute her privileges. All this she would receive without any of the obligations with which most women pay so heavily for their release from the bondage in which they are held until married. For they pay even more when they love--pay the more, in a way, the more they love. It cannot be helped. She was thinking of the Warrens--the same Warrens Monte had visited when Chic, Junior had the whooping cough. She had been there when Chic, Junior was born. Marion had wanted her near--in the next room. She had learned then how they pay--these women who love. She had been there at other times--less dramatic times. It was just