nothing else to do, Uncle George. I had done all I could to
please my father and one or two of my friends. There was nothing against
him--he was very kind and very considerate--but somehow I--" She paused
and drew a long breath.

"Somehow what?" demanded St. George raising his head quickly and
studying her the closer. The situation was becoming vital now--too vital
for any further delay.

"Oh, I don't know--I couldn't love him--that's all. He has many
excellent qualities--too many maybe," and she smiled faintly. "You
know I never liked people who were too good--that is, too willing to do
everything you wanted them to do--especially men who ought really to
be masters and--" She stopped and played with the top of her parasol,
smoothing the knob with her palm as if the better to straighten out the
tangle in her mind. "I expect you will think me queer, Uncle George, but
I have come to the conclusion that I will never love anybody again--I
am through with all that. It's very hard, you know, to mend a thing when
it's broken. I used to say to myself that when I grew to be a woman I
supposed I would love as any other woman seemed content to love; that
no romance of a young girl was ever realized and that they could only be
found in love stories. But my theories all went to pieces when I heard
Mr. Horn that night. Dot's love for John the Carrier--I have read it so
often since that I know the whole story by heart--Dot's love for John
was the real thing, but May Fielding's love for Tackleton wasn't. And
it seemed so wonderful when her lover came home and--it's foolish, I
know--very silly--that I should have been so moved by just the reading
of a story--but it's true. It takes only a very little to push you over
when you are on the edge, and I had been on the edge for a long time.
But don't let us talk about it, dear Uncle George," she added with a
forced smile. "I'm going to take care of you now and be a charming old
maid with side curls and spectacles and make flannel things for the
poor--you just wait and see what a comfort I will be." Her lips were
trembling, the tears crowding over the edges of her lids.

St. George stretched out his hand and in his kindest voice said:

"Was it the carrier and his wife, or was it the sailor boy who came back
so fine and strong, that affected you, Kate?--and made you give up Mr.
Willits?" He would go to the bottom now.

"It was everything, Uncle George--the sweetness of it all--her pride i