Gerard wants a thing I always do it. They say every woman finds
her master, and though I hate to admit it even to myself, I
suppose Gerard is mine. But I hid it all I could and I dare say
I was pretty successful. It care all the easier because Gerard
himself was kind of embarrassed, and he colored up and stammered
while I sat in the tonneau, waiting for him to begin.

"'I thought you said you were going to talk,' I said.

"'Jess,' he said, 'my sister is going to get married.'

"Now, this was news, indeed. She was lots old older than Gerard
--forty years old, if a day--and a chronic invalid. I don't know
exactly what was the matter with her, but she had a bad
complexion, and used to stick pretty tight is the house, and was
always absorbed in church work. She had snappy black eyes, and
Gerard couldn't call his soul his own. They kept house together,
you know, and had been orphans ever since they were little.

"'Oh, married!' I said, pretending to be little interested.

"'It's Mr. Simpson, the curate,' he said.

"It seemed rude to be too surprised, so I just rattled off some
of the usual congratulations. Gerard didn't say a word. He
simply looked and looked, and there was something beautiful to me
in his shame and backwardness and hesitation.

"'It's very unexpected,' he blurted out at last. 'I thought I
was going to take care of her always. It is going to make a