Granville marched on and made no response. He felt his throat fill
with sobs, and swallowed convulsively. Along with this womanly
compassion came a compassion for himself, so hurt on his little
field of battle. He saw his own wounds as one might see a
stranger's.

"Think of Ellen dogging around to a shoe-shop like me and the other
girls," said Abby, "and think of her draggin' around with half a
dozen children and no money. Thank the Lord she's lifted out of it.
It ain't you nor me that ought to grudge her fortune to her, nor
wish her where she might have been otherwise."

"That's so," said the young man.

Abby's hand tightened over the one on the kerosene-can. "You are a
good fellow, Granville Joy," she said again.

Chapter XXV

Robert Lloyd was sitting on the veranda behind the green trail of
vines when Ellen came up the walk. He never forgot the girl's face
looking over her bunch of sweet-peas. There was in it something
indescribably youthful and innocent, almost angelic. The light from
the window made her hair toss into gold; her blue eyes sought
Cynthia with the singleness of blue stars. It was evident whom she
had come to see. She held out her flowers towards her with a gesture
at once humble and worshipful, like that of some devotee at a
shrine.

She said "Good-evening" with a shy comprehensiveness, then, to
Cynthia, like a child, "I thought maybe you would like some of my
sweet-peas."

Both gentlemen rose, and Risley looked curiously from the young girl
to Cynthia, then placed his chair for her, smiling kindly.

"The sweet-peas are lovely," Cynthia said. "Thank you, my dear. They
are much prettier than any I have had in my garden this year. Please
sit down," for Ellen was doubtful about availing herself of the
proffered chair. She had so hoped that she might find Cynthia alone.
She had dreamed, as a lover might have done, of a tete-a-tete with
her, what she would say, what Cynthia would say. She had thought,
and trembled at the thought, that possibly Cynthia might kiss her
when she came or went. She had felt, with a thrill of spirit, the
touch of Cynthia's soft lips on hers, she had smelt the violets
about her clothes. Now it was all spoiled. She remembered things
which she had heard about Mr. Risley's friendship with Cynthia, how
he had danced attendance upon her for half a lifetime, and thought
that she did not like him. She looked at his smiling, grizzled,
blond face with distrust. She fel