Suppose you come to the corner of Eighth Avenue and FortyeighthStreet at 7：30. I live right near the corner. But I’ve gotto be back home by eleven. Ma never lets me stay out aftereleven.”
Carter promised gratefully to keep the tryst， and thenhastened to his mother， who was looking about for him toratify her purchase of a bronze Diana.
A salesgirl， with small eyes and an obtuse nose， strolled nearMasie， with a friendly leer.
“Did you make a hit with his nobs， Mase？” she asked，familiarly.
“The gentleman asked permission to call，” answered Masie，with the grand air， as she slipped Carter’s card into the bosomof her waist.
“Permission to call！” echoed small eyes， with a snigger. “Didhe say anything about dinner in the Waldorf and a spin in hisauto afterward？”
“Oh， cheese it！” said Masie， wearily. “You’ve been usedto swell things， I don’t think. You’ve had a swelled headever since that hose-cart driver took you out to a chop sueyjoint. No， he never mentioned the Waldorf； but there’s a FifthAvenue address on his card， and if he buys the supper you canbet your life there won’t be no pigtail on the waiter what takesthe order.”
As Carter glided away from the Biggest Store with hismother in his electric runabout， he bit his lip with a dull pain athis heart. He knew that love had come to him for the first timein all the twenty-nine years of his life. And that the object ofit should make so readily an appointment with him at a streetcorner， though it was a step toward his desires， tortured himwith misgivings.
Carter did not know the shopgirl. He did not know thather home is often either a scarcely habitable tiny room or adomicile filled to overflowing with kith and kin. The streetcorneris her parlor， the park is her drawing-room； the avenueis her garden walk； yet for the most part she is as inviolatemistress of herself in them as is my lady inside her tapestriedchamber.
One evening at dusk， two weeks after their first meeting，Carter and Masie strolled arm-in-arm into a little， dimly-litpark. They found a bench， tree-shadowed and secluded， andsat there.
For the first time his arm stole gently around her. Hergolden-bronze head slid restfully against his shoulder.
“Gee！” sighed Masie， thankfully. “Why didn’t you ever thinkof that before？”
“Masie，” said Carter， earnestly， “you surely know that Ilove you. I ask you sincerely to marry me. You know me wellenough by this time to have no doubts of me. I want you，and I must have you. I care nothing for the difference in ourstations.”
“What is the difference？” asked Masie， curiously.
“Well， there isn’t any，” said Carter， quickly， “except in theminds of foolish people. It is in my power to give you a life ofluxury. My social position is beyond dispute， and my meansare ample.”
“They all say that，” remarked Masie. “It’s the kid they allgive you. I suppose you really work in a delicatessen or followthe races. I ain’t as green as I look.”
“I can furnish you all the proofs you want，” said Carter，gently. “And I want you， Masie. I loved you the first day I sawyou.”
“They all do，” said Masie， with an amused laugh， “to hear‘em talk. If I could meet a man that got stuck on me the thirdtime he’d seen me I think I’d get mashed on him.”
“Please don’t say such things，” pleaded Carter. “Listen tome， dear. Ever since I first looked into your eyes you havebeen the only woman in the world for me.”
“Oh， ain’t you the kidder！” smiled Masie. “How many othergirls did you ever tell that？”
But Carter persisted. And at length he reached the flimsy，fluttering little soul of the shopgirl that existed somewheredeep down in her lovely bosom. His words penetrated theheart whose very lightness was its safest armor. She lookedup at him with eyes that saw. And a warm glow visited hercool cheeks. Tremblingly， awfully， her moth wings closed，and she seemed about to settle upon the flower of love. Somefaint glimmer of life and its possibilities on the other side ofher glove counter dawned upon her. Carter felt the change andcrowded the opportunity.
“Marry me， Masie，” he whispered softly， “and we will goaway from this ugly city to beautiful ones. We will forget workand business， and life will be one long holiday. I know where Ishould take you—I have been there often. Just think of a shorewhere summer is eternal， where the waves are always ripplingon the lovely beach and the people are happy and free aschildren. We will sail to those shores and remain there as longas you please. In one of those far-away cities there are grandand lovely palaces and towers full of beautiful pictures andstatues. The streets of the city are water， and one travels aboutin—”
“I know，” said Masie， sitting up suddenly. “Gondolas.”
“Yes，” smiled Carter.
“I thought so，” said Masie.
“And then，” continued Carter， “we will travel on and seewhatever we wish in the world. After the European citieswe will visit India and the ancient cities there， and ride onelephants and see the wonderful temples of the Hindoos andBrahmins and the Japanese gardens and the camel trains andchariot races in Persia， and all the queer sights of foreigncountries. Don’t you think you would like it， Masie？”
Masie rose to her feet.
“I think we had better be going home，” she said， coolly. “It’sgetting late.”
Carter humored her. He had come to know her varying，thistle-down moods， and that it was useless to combat them.
But he felt a certain happy triumph. He had held for a moment，though but by a silken thread， the soul of his wild Psyche， andhope was stronger within him. Once she had folded her wingsand her cool hand had closed about his own.
At the Biggest Store the next day Masie’s chum， Lulu，waylaid her in an angle of the counter.
“How are you and your swell friend making it？ she asked.
“Oh， him？” said Masie， patting her side curls. “He ain’t in itany more. Say， Lu， what do you think that fellow wanted me todo？”
“Go on the stage？” guessed Lulu， breathlessly.
“Nit； he’s too cheap a guy for that. He wanted me to marryhim and go down to Coney Island for a wedding tour！”