r.

I straightened and looked out through the open window, steeling myself
against her.

"I am glad you think him fine," I said dryly. "No doubt he compares
very favorably with other young men of your acquaintance."

"You mean Mr. Lloyd, of course," she said quickly.

I was silent, avoiding her gaze and her perfume.

"I'm afraid you don't understand me, Mr. Canby," she said softly. "I'm
sorry. Any friend of Jerry's ought to be a friend of mine."

"I should like to be, of course, but--"

I paused. This woman, against my will, was making me lie to her.

"But what--? Am I so--so unpleasant to you? What have I done to earn
your displeasure?"

"Nothing," I stammered. "Nothing."

"Is it that you fear the contamination of the kind of culture I've
been bred and born in? Or the effect of my familiarity with doctrines
with which you're not in sympathy?"

Was she mocking? Her voice was still gentle, but I had a notion that
inside of her she was laughing. It was as though, having failed to win
me, she was beginning to unmask. I peered into her face. It was
guileless and wore the appealing expression of a reproachful child.

"You do not understand," I said. "I fear nothing for Jerry. He is
strong enough to stand alone. I hope you know just how strong he is,
that's all."

She was a little puzzled--and interested.

"I hope I do; but I wish you would explain."

I turned toward her quickly.

"I mean this. You and he are very different. He cares for you, of
course. It was to be expected, because you're everything that he is
not. Whatever you are, Jerry will be serious. And you can't bind the
characters of two strong people together without mutilating one or the
other, or perhaps both. Jerry will believe everything you tell him and
continue to believe it unless you deceive him. He's ingenuous, but I
hope you won't underestimate him."

She fingered the leaves of a rose, but her eyes under their lids were
looking elsewhere.

"How should I deceive him, Mr. Canby?" she asked, her voice still
unchanging.

"Perhaps I put it too baldly. But I'm not in the habit; of mincing
words. Jerry is no plaything. I'll give you an instance of how much in
earnest he is." And then briefly, but with some sense of the color of
the thing, I gave her a description of Jerry's bout with Sagorski. She
listened without looking at me, while her slender fingers caressed the
rose leaf, but beneath their lids I saw; her eyes flashing. When I had