stay longer," Annie went on, all the while working.
"So--" she paused, and continued a little diffidently--"so we could
really get acquainted; really talk. I hardly ever have anyone to talk
to," she said wistfully. "One gets pretty lonely sometimes. It would be
good to have someone to talk to about the things one thinks."

"What are the things you think, Annie?" Ruth asked impulsively.

"Oh, no mighty thoughts," laughed Annie; "but of course I'm always
thinking about things. We keep alive by thinking, don't we?"

Ruth gave her a startled look.

"Perhaps it's because I haven't had from life itself much of what I'd
like to have," Annie was going on, "that I've made a world within. Can't
let life cheat us, Ruth," she said brightly. "If we can't have things in
one way--have to get them in another."

Again Ruth looked at her in that startled way. Annie did not see it,
reaching over for more asparagus; she was all the time working along in
that quick, sure way--doing what she was doing cleverly and as if it
weren't very important. "Perhaps, Ruth," she said after a minute, "that
that's why my school-girl fancy for you persisted--deepened--the way it
has." She hesitated, then said simply: "I liked you for not letting life
cheat you."

She looked up with a quick little nod as she said that but found Ruth's
face very serious, troubled. "But I don't think I've done what you mean,
Annie," she began uncertainly. "I did what I did--because I had to. And
I'm afraid I haven't--gone on. It begins to seem to me now that I've
stayed in a pretty small place. I've been afraid!" she concluded with
sudden scorn.

"That isn't much wonder," Annie murmured gently.

"But with me," she took it up after a little, "I've had to go on." Her
voice went hard in saying it. "Things would have just shut right down on
me if I would have let them," she finished grimly.

"I married for passion," she began quietly after a minute. "Most people
do, I presume. At least most people who marry young."

Ruth colored. She was not used to saying things right out like that.

"Romantic love is a wonderful thing," Annie pursued; "I suppose it's the
most beautiful thing in the world--while it lasts." She laughed in a
queer, grim little way and gave a sharp twist to the knot she was tying.
"Sometimes it opens up to another sort of love--love of another
quality--and to companionship. It must be a beautiful thing--when it
does that." She hesitated a moment before