erchief.

Hubert spoke seriously. "We do, though. Anyhow, we should in time.
It's just like other habits. It grows. It grows quickly, too. We
never used to fight at all, you know."

"_I_ never fight now," she protested, very near to tears. "I've always
given in."

Poor, timid, self-sacrificing Ruth never could understand what her
brother's tempers were about. She tried so hard not to stand up
against him!

"Oh, damn!" cried Hubert, and strode madly up and down the room.

It was all very futile, quite familiar.

She looked as pained as usual. "What is it, Hugh?" she gently asked.

"Of course you've given in," he flung at her. "You always do. You're
always in the right: you are so keen to be! You wouldn't make me cross
for worlds! It's just your damned humility I can't endure. No man on
earth could possibly endure it."

"I can't help my nature," she sobbed into her handkerchief. "I do my
best to please you. I try to fall into your ways, I'm sure."

Hubert came up to her presently and touched her on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Ruth," he said. "It was my fault. I lost my temper. I
was a cad to swear but somehow--oh, I don't know," and he sank down
upon the chair again. "I suppose really it's just what Boyd has often
said, brother and sister weren't ever made to live together. He says
all relatives have a natural antipathy to one another and----"

"I'm sure _I_ haven't," interrupted Ruth.

This time he ignored her. "It's all so difficult," he said in a new
tone, as though embarking upon an analysis. "I know you're wanting
just to please me, Ruth; you are an awfully good sort; you'll make
somebody a splendid wife some day; but just because you are my sister,
I suppose, I get annoyed when you begin asking whether you can come in
and saying you don't want to if----"

"You'd be much more annoyed if I came in without," said Ruth, with an
unwonted spirit.

Hubert rose to the attack. "You mean it's just my nature, and not you?
I'd get annoyed whichever way it was? I'm just a selfish sort of
cross-grained swine?"

"I didn't say so, you _know_ I didn't; you're simply twisting my words
round."

Grown men and women, by some odd irony, are never nearer childhood than
when in a temper. Hubert realised abruptly how ridiculous it was.
Once more he dropped his voice and dragged the conversation with a
wrench back to the point at issue.

"I was only telling you," he said with dignity, "what Boyd