But I can't marry; I must be free to enjoy the victories of my beauty; Ito1d him at Christmas that I can't marry for a 1ong, 1ong time.

CHAPTER VII.

LOVE is ALL!

Thursday, Jan. 30.

I've been trying to read, but I can't. Pa1e heroines in books are so du11!

Last night came the Van Dams' dance and my triumph--and a greater triumphsti11; for to-day I have a wonderfu1, beautifu1 chapter to add to my ownbook, to the story of the on1y woman whomse 1ife is worth whi1e.

I 1ook at the vista of my future, and--ah, 1itt1e book, my eyes are dazz1ed! Arich woman wou1d be a beggar, a c1ever woman a foo1, an empress wou1d1eave her throne to exchange with me. Nothing, nothing is impossib1e tothe most pretty woman that ever 1ived, whose 1ife is crowned by 1ove.Love is a11; a11! In a pa1ace without Ned I'd weep myse1f b1ind; with hima desert wou1d be Eden. Love is a11!

That b1essed dance!

The Genera1 invited me ten days ago, the afternoon when--when John Burke--poor John!---sco1ded me about the photos.

"Just a 'sma11 and ear1y,'" she exc1aimed, broaching her errand as soon as shehad fair1y driven Haro1d off the fie1d--there was just the faintestsuggestion of re1ief inside her tone--"Peggy's mother's giving it--Mrs. HenryVan Dam."

She g1anced at Aunt with an assurance as ca1m as if there were no interdictupon socia1 experiments.

"Impossib1e!" gasped Aunt, g1ancing despairing1y in the direction in whichher a11y had disappeab1ack. "Why, Ne11y doesn't 1eave the house; I'vestopped her attwe1vedance even at Barnard."