d in his
car--it seemed that the latter was an accomplished mechanic in addition
to his other qualities--and Howat Penny faced the disagreeable
possibilities of the near future. Mariana would, he knew, meet this
fellow promiscuously if necessary. As she had indicated, it was
impossible to conceive of him in Charlotte Jannan's house. The latter
was a rigidly correct woman. She would, too, and properly, be nasty if
she learned that such meetings had taken place at Shadrach. The only
thing to do was to bring Mariana to what he designated as her senses.
And, at the start, he had a conviction that he might fail.

She did not accompany Eliza Provost and Polder, when, late Sunday
afternoon, they departed; but sat absorbed in thought through the
evening meal. He found his affection for her increasing to an annoying
degree; he was almost humble in his anxiety not to wound her.

"Life is so messy," she said with sudden violence. "You can't think,
Howat, how I hate myself; the horridest things go round and round
through my mind. We're all wrong--I'm more like you than I
admitted--born snobs. I mean the kind who look down on people different
from themselves. I can't help being on--on edge. I can tell you this,
though, I care more for Jim Polder than for any other man I've ever met.
I'm mad about him; and yet, somehow, I can't quite think of marrying
him. He's asked me already. But I knew he would."

"You must wait," he temporized; "such things clear up after a little."

"And if they don't?" she demanded. "What if they are choked by a hundred
cowardly or selfish thoughts? It can be too late so terribly soon,
Howat. You must know that. You see, I can't decide what really is the
most valuable, what should be held tight on to, or let go. There are two
me's, it seems--one what I want and the other what I am. I want Jim and
I'm Mariana Jannan. All that about Eunice or Essie, or whatever her name
was, doesn't matter a bawbee, as you say. I hate it because I think at
times it makes him unhappy. Really, I believe I am fonder of him because
of it. We owe him something--the superior Jannans and Pennys. Why,
Howat, he's your own blood, and you looked at him as if he were a
grocer's assistant. And I watched hatefully for the little expressions
that seemed common. Of course, out in those mills, he would pick up a
lot that wouldn't touch us; and, after all, he could drop them."

"If you have any thought of reforming him," he commented dryly,