e, Manella! You've hit the bull's eye in the very middle
three times! I am a wicked man,--I have no heart,--I'm not worthy to be
loved. No I'm not. I should find it a bore!"

"Bore?" she echoed--"What is that?"

"What is that? It is itself, Manella! 'Bore' is just 'bore.' It means
tiredness--worn-out-ness--a state in which you wish yourself in a hot
bath or a cold one, so that nobody can come near you. To be 'loved'
would finish me off in a month!"

Her big eyes opened more widely than their wont in piteous perplexity.

"But how?" she asked.

"How? Why, just as you have put it,--to be prayed for night and
morning,--to be worked for and waited on till fingers turned to
bones,--to be guarded from sickness and harm,--heavens!--think of it!
No more adventures in life,--no more freedom!--just love, love, love,
which would not be love at all but the chains of a miserable wretch in
prison!"

She flushed an angry crimson.

"Who is it that would chain you?" she demanded, "Not I! You could do as
you liked with me--you know it!--and when you go away from this place,
you could leave me and forget me,--I should never trouble you or remind
you that I lived!! I should have had my happiness,--enough for my day!"

The pathos in her voice moved him though he was not easily moved. On a
sudden impulse he put an arm about her, drew her to him and kissed her.
She trembled at his caress, while he smiled at her emotion.

"A kiss is nothing, Manella!" he said--"We kiss children as I kiss you!
You are a child,--a child-woman. Physically you are a Juno,--mentally
you are an infant! By and by you will grow up,--and you will be glad I
did no more than kiss you! It's getting late,--you must go home."

He released her and put her gently away from him. Then, as he saw her
eyes still uplifted questioningly to his face, he laughed.

"Upon my word!" he exclaimed--"I am making a nice fool of myself!
Actually wasting time on a woman. Go home, Manella, go home! If you are
wise you won't stop here another minute! See now! You are full of
curiosity--all women are! You want to know why I stay up here in this
hill cabin by myself instead of staying at the 'Plaza.' You think I'm a
rich Englishman. I'm not. No Englishman is ever rich,--not up to his
own desires. He wants the earth and all that therein is--does the
Englishman, and of course he can't have it. He rather grudges America
her large slice of rich plum-pudding territory, forgetting that he
c