"No!" panted Ammon. "No! I think so much of I you, I just wanted to touch your lips once before I left you. You know Elnora"
"Don't distress yourself," said Elnora calmly. "I am broad enough to judge you sanely. I know what you mean. It would be no harm to you. It would not matter to me, but here we will think of some one else. Edith Carr would not want your lips to-morrow if she knew they had touched mine to-day. I was wise to say 'Go quickly!'"
Ammon still clung to her. "Will you write me?" he begged.
"No," said Elnora. "There is nothing to say, save good-bye. We can do that now."
Ammon held on. "Promise that you will write me only one letter," he urged. "I want just one message from you to lock in my desk, and keep always. Promise you will write once, Elnora."
Elnora looked straight into his eyes, and smiled serenely. "If the talking trees tell me this winter the secret of how a man may grow perfect, I will write you what it is, Philip. In all the time I ave known you, I never have liked you so little. Good-bye."
She drew away her hand and swiftly turned back to the road. Philip Ammon, wordless, started toward Onabasha on a run.
Elnora crossed the road, climbed the fence and sought the shelter of their own woods. She took a diagonal course and followed it until she came to the path leading
