nicest age." Well, Annette at least regarded him as a contemporary! He
found himself laughing with perfect composure--"Yes, that's the trouble
with these quiet country towns. There never _are_ any interesting young
men."

"True," Mrs. Markham agreed, "although it makes slight difference in
Annette's case. She is so little interested in men. It really worries
me at times. But it's quite true, is it not so, dear?"

Mrs. Markham had kept her remarkable eyes on Dr. Blake. And Annette, as
though the conversation failed to interest her, had fallen into a
position of extreme lassitude, her elbow on the table, her cheek
resting on her hand.

At her aunt's question, she seemed to rouse herself a little. "What is
it that's quite true, Auntie?" she asked.

Mrs. Markham transferred her light-gray gaze to her niece's face. "I
was saying," she repeated, speaking distinctly as one does for a child,
"that you are very little interested in men."

"It is perfectly true," Annette answered.

Mrs. Markham laughed a purring laugh, strangely at variance with her
size and type. "You'll find this an Adam-less Eden, Dr. Blake. I'll
have to confess that I too am not especially interested in men."

This thrust did not catch Dr. Blake unawares. He laughed a laugh which
rang as true as Mrs. Markham's. He even ventured on a humorous
monologue in which he accused his sex of every possible failing, ending