“The trouble is,” Jane said, “that if you don’t take it some one will, and you will have to get one that costs more.”

True indeed, I reflected, with my Check Book in my hand.

Ah, would that some power had whispered in my ear “No.  By purchacing the above car you are endangering that which lies near to your Heart and Mind.  Be warned in time.”

But no sign came.  No warning hand was outstretched to put my Check Book back in my pocket book.  I wrote the Check and sealed my doom.

How weak is human nature!  It is terrable to remember the rapture of that moment, and compare it with my condition now, with no Allowence, with my faith gone and my heart in fragments.  And with, alas, another year of school.

As we were going to the country in but a few days, I aranged to leave my new Possesion, merely learning to drive it meanwhile, and having my first lesson the next day.

“Dearest,” Jane said as we left.  “I am thriled to the depths.  The way you do things is wonderfull.  You have no fear, none whatever.  With your father’s Revenge hanging over you, and to secrets, you are calm.  Perfectly calm.”

“I fear I am reckless, Jane,” I said, wistfully.  “I am not brave.  I am reckless, and also desparate.”

“You poor darling!” she said, in a broken voice.  “When I think of all you are suffering, and then see your smile, my Heart aches for you.”

We then went in and had some ice cream soda, which I paid for, Jane having nothing but a dollar, which she needed for a manacure.  I also bought a key ring for Tom, feeling that he should have somthing of mine, a token, in exchange for the Frat pin.

I shall pass over lightly the following week, during which the Familey was packing for the country and all the servants were in a bad humer.  In the mornings I took lessons driving the car, which I called the Arab, from the well-known song, which we have on the phonograph;

     From the Dessert I come to thee,
     On my Arab shod with fire.

The instructer had not heard the song, but he said it was a good name, because very likly no one else would think of having it.

“It sounds like a love song,” he observed.

“It is,” I replied, and gave him a steady glanse.  Because, if one realy loves, it is silly to deny it.

“Long ways to a Dessert, isn’t it?” he inquired.

“A Dessert may be a place, or it may be a thirsty and emty place in the Soul,” I replied.  “In my case it is Soul, not terratory.”

But I saw that he did not understand.

How few there are who realy understand!  How many of us, as I, stand thirsty in the market place, holding out a cup for a kind word or for some one who sees below the surface, and recieve nothing but indiference!

On Tuesday the Grays went to their country house, and Tom came over to say good-bye.  Jane had told him he could come, as the Familey would be out.