“Why” — he was plainly bewildered — ”why didn’t you tell me you were tired!”

“I’m telling you now.”

They took the nearest ferry across the river, and the Subway home. At the entrance to the noisy, crowded flat in which she lived Myra turned to face him. She was through with pretense. She was tired of make-believe. She felt a certain relief in the thought of what she had to say. She faced him squarely.

“I’ve lived in the city all my life and I’m crazy about it. I love it. I like to walk in the park a little maybe, Sundays, but I hate tramping like we did this afternoon, and you might as well know it. I wouldn’t chop down a tree, not if I was freezing to death, and