“Darling, darling, dearest,” pleaded Hildreth, “I thought you had about enough of the newspapers ... you’ve seen how they’ve distorted all our ideals ... how our attempt to use them for propaganda has gone to smash ... how they pervert ... the filth and abuse they heap upon pioneers of thought in any direction—­why wake the wild beasts up again?”

“What’s the use believing in anything, if we don’t stick up for what we believe?”

“Oh, go ahead, dear, if you feel so strongly about it, but—­” and her tiny, dark head drooped, “I’m a little wearied ...  I want quiet and peace a little while longer ...  I’m getting the worst of it—­not you so much, or Penton.

“I’m the woman in the case.

“Remember the invitation the other night, from the Congregational minister—­for tea?  He invited you for tea, you remember, and left me out?”

“—­remember, too,” I replied fondly, caressing her head, “how I didn’t even deign to reply to the ——­ ——­ ——­ ——!”

“Sh!” putting her hand gently and affectionately over my mouth, “don’t swear so ... very well, poke the wild beasts again!... but we’ll only serve as sport for another Roman holiday for the newspapers.”

I wrote Miller to come down, that I had an exclusive interview for him.

He arrived the very night of the day he received my letter.

Darrie stepped out over to the Ronds’, not to be herself brought into what she had so far managed to keep out of.

Hildreth consumed the better part of two hours fixing herself up as women do when they want to make an impression....

“Your friend from Kansas must see that you haven’t made such a bad choice in picking me,” she proclaimed, with that pretty droop of her mouth.

“No, no! be a good boy, don’t muss me up now!”

She wore a plain, navy-blue skirt ... wore a white middy blouse with blue, flowing tie ... easy shoes that fitted snug to her pretty little feet ... her eyes never held such depths to them, her face never shone with such beauty before.

I wore a brown sweater vest with pearl buttons ... corduroy trousers ... black oxfords ... a flowing tie....

A large log fire welcomed my former Kansas friend.

“Well, Johnnie, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

“Jerome, let me introduce you to the only woman that ever lived, or shall live, for me ...  Hildreth Baxter.”

As Hildreth gave Miller her hand, I could see that he liked her, and that he inwardly commented on my good taste and perhaps said to himself, “Well, Johnnie is not so crazy after all!”

After I had given him the interview, he asked her a few questions, but she begged to be left out, that it was my interview.

“Mr. Miller, you are a friend of Johnnie’s ...  I have often heard him speak highly of you; can’t you dissuade him from having this interview printed ... no matter if you have been sent by your paper all the way down here for it?”