thought her attempt at smart rejoinder offended him. Misunderstanding
her literalness of mind, he moved away, and shortly afterwards re-
entered the house.

Of course Loo was dissatisfied with such incidents as these. When she
saw Bancroft trying to draw Barkman out and throw contempt upon him, she
never dreamed of objecting. But when he attacked her, she flew to her
weapons. What had she done, what was she doing, to deserve his sneers?
She only wished him to love her, and she felt indignantly that every
time she teased him by going with Barkman, he was merciless, and
whenever she abandoned herself to him, he drew back. She couldn't bear
that; it was cruel of him. She loved him, yes; no one, she knew, would
ever make him so good a wife as she would. No one ever could. Why, there
was nothin' she wouldn't do for him willingly. She'd see after his
comforts an' everythin'. She'd tidy all his papers an' fix up his
things. And if he ever got ill, she'd jest wait on him day and night--so
she would. She'd be the best wife to him that ever was.

Oh, why couldn't he be good to her always? That was all she wanted, to
feel he loved her; then she'd show him how she loved him. He'd be happy,
as happy as the day was long. How foolish men were! they saw nothin'
that was under their noses.

"P'r'aps he does love me," she said to herself; "he talked the other
evenin' beautiful; I guess he don't talk like that to every one, and yet
he won't give in to me an' jest be content--once for all. It's their
pride makes 'em like that; their silly, stupid pride. Nothin' else. Men
air foolish things. I've no pride at all when I think of him, except I
know that no one else could make him as happy as I could. Oh my!" and
she sighed with a sense of the mysterious unnecessary suffering in life.