r thee
something a great deal better on tomorrow's afternoon?"

"One never knows----"

"Listen; he is to come at three o'clock, it will be thy fault if he
leaves at four. Thou can make tea for him--thou can walk in the
greenhouse and the garden with him, thou can sing for him--no,
let him sing for thee--thou can ask him to help thee with 'The
Banded Men'--and if he goes away before eight o'clock I will say
to thee--'take the first man that asks thee for thou hast no
woman-witchery with which to pick and choose!' Grant is a fine man.
If thou can win him, thou wins something worth while. He has always
held himself apart. His father was much like him. All of them
soldiers and proud as men are made, these confounded, democratic
days."

"And what of Boris?" asked Sunna.

"May Boris rest wherever he is! Thou could not compare Boris with
Maximus Grant."

"That is the truth. In many ways they are not comparable. Boris is a
rough, passionate man. Grant is a gentleman. Always I thought there
was something common in me; that must be the reason why I prefer
Boris."

"To vex me, thou art saying such untruthful words. I know thy
contradictions! Go now and inquire after my tea. I am in want of it."

During tea, nothing further was said of Maximus Grant; but Sunna was
in a very merry mood, and Adam watched her, and listened to her in a
philosophical way;--that is, he tried to make out amid all her
persiflage and bantering talk what was her ruling motive and intent--a
thing no one could have been sure of, unless they had heard her
talking to herself--that mysterious confidence in which we all
indulge, and in which we all tell ourselves the truth. Sunna was
undressing her hair and folding away her clothing as she visited this
confessional, but her revelations were certainly honest, even if
fragmentary, and full of doubt and uncertainty.

"Grant, indeed!" she exclaimed, "I am not ready for Grant--I believe I
am afraid of the man--he would make me over--make me like himself--in
a month he would do it--I like Boris best! I should quarrel with
Boris, of course, and we should say words neither polite nor kind to
each other; but then Boris would do as that blessed child said, 'Look
at me'; and I should look at him, and the making-up would begin.
Heigh-ho! I wish it could begin tonight!" She was silent then for a
few minutes, and in a sadder voice added--"with Max I should become an
angel--and I should have a life without a ripple--