"Ah," she said, very gently, "that's it. I see. You won't believe me,
but I assure you from now on I mean to be entirely different."

"Please, not too different."

"Oh yes, yes, as different as possible. I've been so unhappy, and
unhappy about nothing definite--that's the worst kind, only that I
have not liked the life I was leading."

She glanced at him appealingly. She had tried to tell this simple
story to so many people, for she had many friends, and yet no one had
ever really understood. Some had told her she was spoiled, more, that
there was no use in trying to change her life because she would soon
marry; most of them had advised her to marry and find out what real
trouble was. Now, as she spoke she saw that this strange young man
from the sea not only understood her discontent, but thought it
natural, almost commonplace.

She poured it all out. "Only the worst thing," she ended, "is that I'm
not really any good. There isn't anything else that I know how to do."

"I doubt that," he answered, and she began to doubt it, too. "I'm sure
there are lots of things you could do if you put your mind on it. Did
you ever try to write?"

Now, indeed, she felt sure that he was gifted with powers more
than mortal--to have guessed this secret which no one else had ever
suspected. She colored deeply.

"Why, yes," she answered, "I think I can--a little, only I've so