ked very large--a
great shapeless mass of dark in the old red chair.

She liked the bigness of him, felt the old satisfaction at sight of the
strong, rugged face, the old craving for confidence and approval.
Strange how different one felt in company with different people. _Tete-
a-tete_ with Ralph Percival, Darsie felt a giant of strength and
resource--assured, self-confident, a bulwark against which others might
lean. With Dan, well, with Dan she was just a slip of a girl, conscious
of nothing so much as her own weaknesses, mental and physical; her
difficult gropings, compared with his clear vision; her tiny hands and
wrists, compared with his big sinewy paw; her slim form, compared to the
bulk of the square-cut shoulders. Never--Darsie realised it with a
smile--never did she feel so humble and diffident as when in Dan's
society; yet, strangely enough, the sensation was far from disagreeable.

"Dan!"

"Darsie!"

"Is anything the matter? Between you and me! You don't happen to be
snarkey, do you, about anything I've done?"

"Why should you think I am `snarkey'?"

"Because--you _are_! You're not a bit sociable and friendly--even
_your_ sort of sociability. I'm a guest in your mother's house if I'm
nothing else and it's your duty to be civil."

"Haven't I always been civil to you, Darsie?"

Darsie drew a quick breath of impatience and, seizing upon the poker,
beat at the unoffending coal as the best method of letting off steam.

"You are so painfully literal. I can _feel_ what other people are
thinking, however much they try to disguise it."

"How do _I_ feel, for example?"

Darsie turned her head and stared curiously into Dan's face. The hand
on which it leaned shielded it somewhat from view, but, even so, there
was something in the intent gaze which filled her with a strange new
discomfort. She turned back to her poking once more.

"I think--there's something that I don't understand--I think--there's
something you disapprove! I'm a very good girl, and I work very hard,
and I'm fond of my friends, and I expect them to be fond of me in
return. I don't _like_ you to disapprove, Dan!"

"I can't help it, Darsie. I've hated that friendship from the
beginning, and I hate it more with every month that passes."

"Oh! _that_ old story." Darsie's voice took a tone of impatience; for
it was annoying to find that Dan was harking back on the well-known
subject of dispute. "Well, I'm sorry to distress y