with swift fancies and swifter disillusionments? How frail she was, and
how brilliant! How innocent and how bitter!

He turned away, ostensibly to examine a print on the wall, and while his
back was toward her, he felt that her gaze stabbed him like the
thrust of a knife. Wheeling quickly about, he met her look, but to his
amazement, she continued to stare back at him with the expression of
indignant surprise still in her face. How she hated him and, by Jove,
how she _could_ hate! She reminded him of a little wild brown animal as
she stood there with her teeth showing between her parted red lips and
her eyes flashing defiance. The next minute he found himself asking if
she could ever grow gentle--could ever soften enough to allow herself
to be stroked? He remembered Solomon Hatch's remark that "she was
onmerciful to an entire sex," and in spite of his effort at composure, a
laugh sprang to his lips.

In the centre of the room a table was laid, and going over to it, she
busied herself with the cups and saucers as though she were anxious to
put a disagreeable presence out of her thoughts.

"May I share your supper?" he asked, and waited, not without amusement,
for her answer.

"I'm sorry there isn't any for you at the big house," she answered
politely. "If you will sit down, I'll tell Delily to bring in some
batter bread."

"And you?"

"I'll have mine with grandfather. He's out in the barn giving medicine