st for you!" He looked away and mastered
himself again to quiet friendliness, "You know that, _don't you_, Lydia?
You know that all I want is for you to have the most successful life
anyone can?"

He leaned to her imploring in his turn.

She drew a quick breath, and moved her head from side to side
restlessly. Then drawn by the steady insistence of his eyes, she said,
as if touched by his patient, determined kindness, "Oh, yes, yes, Paul,
I realize how awfully good you're being to me! I wish I could--but--yes,
of course I see how good you are to me!"

He laid his hand an instant over hers, withdrawing it before she herself
could make the action. "It makes me happy to have you know I want to
be," he said simply, "now that's all. You needn't be afraid. I shan't
bother you."

They were in front of the Emery house now. He did not try to detain her
longer. He helped her down, only repeating as she gave him her gloved
hand an instant, "That's what I'm for--to be good to you."

The wagon drove off, the young man refraining from so much as a backward
glance.

The girl turned to the house and stood a moment, opening and shutting
her hands. When she moved, it was to walk so rapidly as almost to run up
the walk, up the steps, into the hall and into her mother's presence,
where, still on the crest of the wave of her resolution, she cried,
"Mother, did you really send Paul for me again. Did you _really_?"

"Why, yes, dear," said Mrs. Emery, surprised, sitting up on the sofa
with an obvious effort; "did somebody say I didn't?"

"I hoped you didn't!" cried Lydia bitterly; "it was--horrid! I was out
with all the girls in front of Hallam's--everybody was so--they all
laughed so when--they looked at me so!"

Mrs. Emery spoke with dignity, "Naturally I couldn't know where he would
find you."

"But, Mother, you _did_ know that every afternoon for two weeks
you've--it's been managed so that I've been out with Paul."

Mrs. Emery ignored this and went on plaintively, "I didn't see that it
was so unreasonable for an invalid to send whoever she could find after
her only daughter because she was feeling worse."

Lydia's frenzy carried her at once straight to the exaggeration which is
the sure forerunner of defeat in the sort of a conflict which was
engaging her. "_Are_ you feeling any worse?" she cried in a despairing
incredulity which was instantly marked as inhumanly unfilial by the
scared revulsion on her face as well as Mrs. E