lways used by prigs,"
cried Evelyn. "Honestly I think they ought to be. That's what's so
disappointing. Every time one thinks it's not going to happen, and every
time it does."

"The pursuit of Friendship," said Hewet. "The title of a comedy."

"You're horrid," she cried. "You don't care a bit really. You might be
Mr. Hirst."

"Well," said Hewet, "let's consider. Let us consider--" He paused,
because for the moment he could not remember what it was that they had
to consider. He was far more interested in her than in her story, for as
she went on speaking his numbness had disappeared, and he was conscious
of a mixture of liking, pity, and distrust. "You've promised to marry
both Oliver and Perrott?" he concluded.

"Not exactly promised," said Evelyn. "I can't make up my mind which I
really like best. Oh how I detest modern life!" she flung off. "It must
have been so much easier for the Elizabethans! I thought the other day
on that mountain how I'd have liked to be one of those colonists, to cut
down trees and make laws and all that, instead of fooling about with all
these people who think one's just a pretty young lady. Though I'm not.
I really might _do_ something." She reflected in silence for a minute.
Then she said:

"I'm afraid right down in my heart that Alfred Perrot _won't_ do. He's
not strong, is he?"

"Perhaps he couldn't cut down a tree," said Hewet. "Have you never cared
for anybody?" he asked.

"I've cared for heaps of people, but not to marry them," she said. "I
suppose I'm too fastidious. All my life I've wanted somebody I could
look up to, somebody great and big and splendid. Most men are so small."

"What d'you mean by splendid?" Hewet asked. "People are--nothing more."

Evelyn was puzzled.

"We don't care for people because of their qualities," he tried to
explain. "It's just them that we care for,"--he struck a match--"just
that," he said, pointing to the flames.

"I see what you mean," she said, "but I don't agree. I do know why I
care for people, and I think I'm hardly ever wrong. I see at once what
they've got in them. Now I think you must be rather splendid; but not
Mr. Hirst."

Hewlet shook his head.

"He's not nearly so unselfish, or so sympathetic, or so big, or so
understanding," Evelyn continued.

Hewet sat silent, smoking his cigarette.

"I should hate cutting down trees," he remarked.

"I'm not trying to flirt with you, though I suppose you think I am!"
Evelyn shot out.