But he meant to do it just the same.

He did not go in the other car as Rilla had suggested he might be asked to do. The invitation had come, but he had declined on the plea of not having time for so leisurely a trip. The truth was that he could not bear the cheerful throng of his old friends and their pleasant raillery; besides, he would not have a chance to talk to Barbara alone, and he somehow shrank from seeing her handing out her favors and smiles alike to all the boys. It hadn’t mattered so much when he was able to take her away from the rest whenever he tried, knowing that she enjoyed his companionship, looking forward to a day when they might really belong to one another. But now all that was off, and perhaps the less he saw of Barbara before she left the better. It was bound to be a wrench, and he would take it as bravely and as swiftly as possible.

So it was with grave, inscrutable eyes that he presented himself on the ship a half hour before sailing time and brought his gift with him, an exquisitely mounted and fitted handbag of a unique design, simple but costly. He was glad that he had bought it a week before the bank failed—bought it with a joyous heart, delighting that he knew her tastes. That at least would be perfect, his final gift to her. For it wasn’t at all likely that he would be able ever again to give her gifts like that. Also, it was something that would remind her constantly of him while she was traveling—that is, if she chose to carry it instead of any others she might have. Perhaps that wasn’t so good, now that things had turned out as they had. Perhaps it wasn’t good to remind her of himself, since nothing was ever likely to come of it further. Yet it might for a time provide a protection for her against someone less worthy than the memory of himself. Not that he counted himself worthy, only in the quality of his admiration for her. As yet he had not begun to call it by any tenderer name than admiration, though he knew in his heart it went deeper than that if he only had the right.

So he carried his gift to the ship, intriguingly but simply wrapped, preserving its exquisite atmosphere even to the quality of its wrapping.

At the last minute he had weakened and grown extravagant, purchasing besides a wealth of the handsomest long-stemmed roses, yellow with hearts of gold lit with a ruby light, the kind of roses that went with her red-gold hair, her amber-lighted brown eyes, and the warm brown outfits she so loved to wear.

He had sent the roses to her cabin with his card and a book he wanted her to read—just a little, inexpensive book, but one that held great thoughts. He had slipped it under the great green bow of rich satin ribbon with which the luxurious flowers were tied. But the beautiful handbag he carried with him and put into her hands himself, that last five minutes when he drew her away from the rest and made her walk the deck with him away from the crowd. Then, standing with her alone, he found he had nothing to say but commonplaces!

“What’s the matter with you, Thurl? You look so grown up and faraway,” challenged Barbara cheerfully. Her eyes were starry, and her face was lit with excitement of the day, her first trip abroad.

“I’m fairly old,” he said gravely and tried to smile, but there was something in his eyes that told the girl there was more to his words than he cared to explain or she cared to recognize.

“I wish you were going along!” she said fervently, and showed the dimple in her left cheek that made her smile so alluring. She had said the same to half a dozen other boys, and Thurlow knew it, yet his eyes flashed back an echo to her wish, even while he recognized that there was nothing really personal in her wish. Or was there? He could not be sure, and this was no time to find out. Perhaps there would never be a time to find out, now, anymore. It was too late!

No, he couldn’t even say that. For honorably he had no right to find out more than eyes can flash in glances and soft inflections of voices can tell. No, they were not through college yet. At least—! Stab! His thoughts brought him back to the stern facts of his life. There would never be any more college for him. More for her perhaps but none for him. That in itself was a barrier between them. If it had been the other way around, it wouldn’t have mattered in the least, for a woman felt no shame if she had not completed her education before she married, but a man was somehow disqualified if he had not as good an education as his girl.