"I'm not Mrs. Harland's kind," Nick explained; "nor Falconer's, though
he's too big a man to care for what people call 'social distinctions.'
They'd be kind to me if I went, and wouldn't let me feel any difference
they could help. But there'd be a house-party, maybe, and I wouldn't know
any one. I'd be 'out of it.' I couldn't stand for that, Mrs. May."

"You're sensitive," Angela said.

"In some ways," Nick admitted. But he did not admit the truth; that he
could not, and would not, go to Rushing River Camp because he was jealous
of Falconer. To Nick it seemed impossible that any man, free to love,
could be five minutes in Angela's society without falling in love with
her.

He had had his moments of hope, but with Falconer for a rival the
handicap was too great. Not that Nick meant to give up the fight; but if
she went to Shasta it would be a knockdown blow. John Falconer was high
enough for a place in Mrs. May's own world. Nick despised jealousy as
common and shameful, and had always scorned men who yielded to so mean a
vice. Now, however, they had his pity. He knew what they suffered, and he
could not go with Mrs. May, in Falconer's car.

Nevertheless he beat down the desire to dissuade her from the trip.

"You oughtn't to miss McCloud River," he forced himself to say.

"I'll see," said Angela. "It's nice not to make up one's mind, but just to
enjoy the minute."