sense of having put herself in the wrong
exasperated her with him. "Oh, I dare say you were curious. Don't you
suppose I have noticed that men are puzzled at me? What did you mean by
saying that you thought I would be equal to anything?"

"I meant--I thought you would like to be treated frankly."

"And you would n't treat everybody so?"

"I wouldn't treat Mrs. Maynard so."

"Oh!" she said. "You treat me upon a theory."

"Don't you like that? We treat everybody upon a theory"--

"Yes, I know"

"And I should tell you the worst of anything at once, because I think
you are one of the kind that don't like to have their conclusions made
for them."

"And you would really let women make their own conclusions," she said.
"You are very peculiar!" She waited a while, and then she asked, "And
what is your theory of me?"

"That you are very peculiar."

"How?"

"You are proud."

"And is pride so very peculiar?"

"Yes; in women."

"Indeed! You set up for a connoisseur of female character. That's very
common, nowadays. Why don't you tell me something more about Yourself?
We're always talking about me."

He might well have been doubtful of her humor. He seemed to decide that
she was jesting, for he answered lightly, "Why, you began it."

"I know I did, this time. But now I wish to stop it, too."

He looked down at the tiller in his hands. "Well," he said, "I should
like to tell you about myself. I should like to know what you think of
the kind of man I am. Will you be honest if I will?"

"That's a very strange condition," she answered, meeting and then
avoiding the gaze he lifted to her face.

"What? Being honest?"

"Well, no--Or, yes!"

"It is n't for you."

"Thank you. But I'm not under discussion now."

"Well, in the first place," he began, "I was afraid of you when we met."

"Afraid of me?"

"That is n't the word, perhaps. We'll say ashamed of myself. Mrs.
Maynard told me about you, and I thought you would despise me for not
doing or being anything in particular. I thought you must."

"Indeed!"

He hesitated, as if still uncertain of her mood from this intonation,
and then he went on: "But I had some little hope you would tolerate
me, after all. You looked like a friend I used to have.--Do you mind my
telling you?"

"Oh, no. Though I can't say that it's ever very comfortable to be told
that you look like some one else."

"I don't suppose any one else would have been struck by the
resemblance,