ed Ann's smartness.

For days together she would follow Matthew with her eyes, watching him
from behind her long lashes, listening in silence to everything he
said, vainly seeking to find points in him. He was unaware of her
generous intentions. He had a vague feeling he was being criticised.
He resented it even in those days.

"I do try," said Ann suddenly one evening apropos of nothing at all.
"No one will ever know how hard I try not to dislike him."

Abner looked up.

"Sometimes," continued Ann, "I tell myself I have almost succeeded. And
then he will go and do something that will bring it all on again."

"What does he do?" asked Abner.

"Oh, I can't tell you," confessed Ann. "If I told you it would sound
as if it was my fault. It's all so silly. And then he thinks such a
lot of himself. If one only knew why! He can't tell you himself when
you ask him."

"You have asked him?" queried Abner.

"I wanted to know," explained Ann. "I thought there might be something
in him that I could like."

"Why do you want to like him?" asked Abner, wondering how much she had
guessed.

"I know," wailed Ann. "You are hoping that when I am grown up I shall
marry him. And I don't want to. It's so ungrateful of me."

"Well, you're not grown up yet," Abner consoled her. "And so long as
you are feeling like that about it, I'm not likely to want you to marry
him."

"It would make you so happy," sobbed Ann.

"Yes, but we've got to think of the boy, don't forget that," laughed
Abner. "Perhaps he might object."

"He would. I know he would," cried Ann with conviction. "He's no
better than I am."

"Have you been asking him to?" demanded Abner, springing up from his
chair.

"Not to marry me," explained Ann. "But I told him he must be an
unnatural little beast not to try to like me when he knew how you loved
me."

"Helpful way of putting it," growled Abner. "And what did he say to
that?"

"Admitted it," flashed Ann indignantly. "Said he had tried."

Abner succeeded in persuading her that the path of dignity and virtue
lay in her dismissing the whole subject from her mind.

He had made a mistake, so he told himself. Age may be attracted by
contrast, but youth has no use for its opposite. He would send Matthew
away. He could return for week-ends. Continually so close to one
another, they saw only one another's specks and flaws; there is no
beauty without perspective. Matthew wanted the corners rubbe