d a perfect gentleman. What harm is there?"

"Why do you say that to me, Carlia?"

"Why not to you?" She came and sat opposite him by the table. He was
silent, and she repeated her question, slowly, carefully, and with
emphasis. "Why not to you? Why should you care?"

"But I do care."

"I don't believe it. You have never shown that you do."

"I am showing it now."

"Tomorrow you will forget it--forget me for a month."

"Carlia!"

"You've done it before--many times--you'll do it again."

The girl's eyes flashed. She seemed keyed up to carry through something
she had planned to do, something hard. She arose and stood by the table,
facing him.

"I sometimes have thought that you cared for me--but I'm through with
that now. Nobody really cares for me. I'm only a rough farm hand. I know
how to milk and scrub and churn and clean the stable--an' that's what I
do day in and day out. There's no change, no rest for me, save when he
takes me away from it for a little while. He understands, he's the only
one who does."

"But, Carlia!"

"You," she continued in the same hard voice, "you're altogether too good
and too wise for such as I. You're so high up that I can't touch you.
You live in the clouds, I among the clods. What have we two in common?"

"Much, Carlia--I--"

He arose and came to her, but she evaded him.

"Keep away, Dorian; don't touch me. You had better go home now."

"You're not yourself, Carlia. What is the matter? You have never acted
like this before."

"It's not because I haven't felt like it, but it's because I haven't had
the courage; but now it's come out, and I can't stop it. It's been
pent up in me like a flood--now it's out. I hate this old farm--I hate
everything and everybody--I--hate you!"

Dorian arose quickly as if he had been lifted to his feet. What was she
saying? She was wild, crazy wild.

"What have I done that you should hate me?" he asked as quietly as his
trembling voice would allow.

"Done? nothing. It's what you haven't done. What have you done to
repay--my--Oh, God, I can't stand it--I can't stand it!"

She walked to the wall and turned her face to it. She did not cry. The
room was silently tense for a few moments.

"I guess I'd better go," said Dorian.

She did not reply. He picked up his hat, lingered, then went to the
door. She hated him. Then let him get out from her presence. She hated
him. He had not thought that possible. Well, he would go. He would never
a