ur's case," I said. "I liked him from
the first moment I saw him. It's true that we had been talking for some
time before there was light enough for me to see him."

"You like him so much that you'd be willing to lend him all the money he
wanted, without security?" she asked.

"Yes, all the money I have," I said.

"Without any--any sort of condition?"

"I should make one condition," I replied.

"Which is?"

"That he'd let me come and stay with him, and Brenda, and all of you--on
the farm."

"And, of course, we should all have to be very nice to you, and treat you
as our benefactor--our proprietor, almost," she suggested cruelly.

I was hurt, and for a moment I was inclined to behave much as young
Turnbull had behaved that afternoon, to turn away and sulk, and show that
I had been grievously misunderstood. I overcame that impulse, however. "I
shouldn't expect you to curtsey!" I said.

She turned to me with one of her instant changes of mood.

"Why don't you tell me the truth?" she asked passionately.

"The truth _you_ mean hasn't anything whatever to do with what we're
talking about now," I said.

"Oh! but it has. It must have," she protested. "Aren't you trying to buy
my good-will all the time? All this is so heroic and theatrical. Aren't
you being the splendid benefactor of one of your own plays--being
frightfully tactful and oh! _gentlemanly_? It wouldn't be the right thing,
of course, to--to put any sort of pressure on me; but you could put us all
under every sort of obligation to you, and afterwards--when you came to
stay with us--you'd be very forbearing and sad, no doubt, and be very
sweet to my mother--she likes you already--but every one would know just
why; and you'd all expect me--to--to do the right thing, too."

If I had not been truly in love with her I should have been permanently
offended by that speech. It stung me. What she implied was woundingly true
of that old self of mine which had so recently come under my observation
and censure. I could see that; and yet if any one but Anne had accused me
I should have gone off in high dudgeon. The hint of red in my hair would
not permit me to accept insult with meekness. And while I was still
seeking some way to avoid giving expression to my old self whose influence
was painfully strong just then, she spoke again.

"Now you're offended," she said.

I avoided a direct answer by saying, "What you accused me of thinking and
planning might have bee