"Isn't fair',"said Winfield to himself,miserably,"no sir,'t isn't fair!"He sat on the narrow piazza which belonged to Mrs.Pendleton's brown house,and took stern account of his inner self.The morning paper lay beside him,unopened,though his fingers itched to tear the wrapper,and his hat was pulled far down over his eyes,to shade them from the sun.
"If I go up there I'm going to fall in love with her,and I know it!"That moment of revelation the night before,when soul stood face to face with soul,had troubled him strangely.He knew himself for a sentimentalist where women were concerned,but until they stood at the gate together,he had thought himself safe.Like many another man,on the sunny side of thirty,he had his ideal woman safely enshrined in his inner consciousness.
She was a pretty little thing,this dream maiden--a blonde,with deep blue eyes,a rosy complexion,and a mouth like Cupid's bow.
Mentally,she was of the clinging sort,for Winfield did not know that in this he was out of fashion.She had a dainty,bird-like air about her and a high,sweet voice--a most adorable little woman,truly,for a man to dream of when business was not too pressing.
In almost every possible way,Miss Thorne was different.She was dark,and nearly as tall as he was;dignified,self-possessed,and calm,except for flashes of temper and that one impulsive moment.He had liked her,found her interesting in a tantalising sort of way,and looked upon her as an oasis in a social desert,but that was all.
Of course,he might leave the village,but he made a wry face upon discovering,through laboured analysis,that he didn't want to go away.It was really a charming spot--hunting and fishing to be had for the asking,fine accommodations at Mrs.Pendleton's,beautiful scenery,bracing air--in every way it was just what he needed.Should he let himself be frightened out of it by a newspaper woman who lived at the top of the hill?Hardly!
None the less,he realised that a man might firmly believe in Affinity,and,through a chain of unfortunate circumstances,become the victim of Propinquity.He had known of such instances and was now face to face with the dilemma.
Then his face flooded with dull colour."Darn it,"he said to himself,savagely,"what an unmitigated cad I am!All this is on the assumption that she's likely to fall on my neck at any minute!Lord!"Yet there was a certain comfort in the knowledge that he was safe,even if he should fall in love with Miss Thorne.That disdainful young woman would save him from himself,undoubtedly,when he reached the danger point,if not before.
"I wonder how a fellow would go about it anyway,"he thought."He couldn't make any sentimental remarks,without being instantly frozen.She's like the Boston girls we read about in the funny papers.He couldn't give her things,either,except flowers or books,or sweets,or music.She has more books than she wants,because she reviews'em for the paper,and I don't think she's musical.She doesn't look like the candy fiends,and I imagine she'd pitch a box of chocolates into the sad sea,or give it to Hepsey.There's nothing left but flowers--and I suppose she wouldn't notice'em.
"A man would have to teach her to like him,and,on my soul,Idon't know how he'd do that.Constant devotion wouldn't have any effect--I doubt if she'd permit it;and a fellow might stay away from her for six months,without a sign from her.I guess she's cold--no,she isn't,either--eyes and temper like hers don't go with the icebergs.
"I--that is,he couldn't take her out,because there's no place to go.It's different in the city,of course,but if he happened to meet her in the country,as I've done--"Might ask her to drive,possibly,if I could rent Alfred and Mamie for a few hours--no,we'd have to have the day,for anything over two miles,and that wouldn't be good form,without a chaperone.Not that she needs one--she's equal to any emergency,I fancy.Besides,she wouldn't go.If I could get those two plugs up the hill,without pushing 'em,gravity would take'em back,but I couldn't ask her to walk up the hill after the pleasure excursion was over.I don't believe a drive would entertain her.
"Perhaps she'd like to fish--no,she wouldn't,for she said she didn't like worms.Might sail on the briny deep,except that there's no harbour within ten miles,and she wouldn't trust her fair young life to me.She'd be afraid I'd drown her.
"I suppose the main idea is to cultivate a clinging dependence,but I'd like to see the man who could woo any dependence from Miss Thorne.She holds her head like a thoroughbred touched with the lash.She said she was afraid of Carlton,but I guess she was just trying to be pleasant.I'll tell him about it--no,I won't,for I said I wouldn't.
"I wish there was some other girl here for me to talk to,but I'll be lucky if I can get along peaceably with the one already here.I'll have to discover all her pet prejudices and be careful not to walk on any of 'em.There's that crazy woman,for instance--I mustn't allude to her,even respectfully,if I'm to have any softening feminine influence about me before I go back to town.She didn't seem to believe I had any letter from Carlton--that's what comes of being careless.
"I shouldn't have told her that people said she had large feet and wore men's shoes.She's got a pretty foot;I noticed it particularly before I spoke--I suppose she didn't like that--most girls wouldn't,I guess,but she took it as a hunter takes a fence.Even after that,she said she'd help me be patient,and last night,when she said she'd read the papers to me--she was awfully sweet to me then.
"Perhaps she likes me a little bit--I hope so.She'd never care very much for anybody,though--she's too independent.She wouldn't even let me help her up the hill;I don't know whether it was independence,or whether she didn't want me to touch her.
If we ever come to a place where she has to be helped,I suppose I'll have to put gloves on,or let her hold one end of a stick while I hang on to the other.
