some way, Glo; or else I am. What have you been doing to yourself in these two years?” “What should I be doing? Is a girl to be waiting always for something that’s never going to happen?” A cold horror seized him, but he tried to shake[60] it off; tried to recall the Gloriana he had grown up with; a frank, outspoken daughter of the people, strong to attract, but also strong to resist. The “town-side” boys had jeered him for companying with John Fallon’s daughter, a “factory-side” girl, but then, as now, he was wont to go his own way when he was convinced that the way was straight and honest. The way had been straight, he told himself, because the girl was straight. But now—— [60] “Glo, I meant what I said a few minutes ago; you ought to get married. Some wise person has said that all men and women can be divided into two classes: those who need not marry unless they choose to, and those who must. You are one of those who must. It’s your harbor of safety.” Her low laugh was like an invitation to a sensuous dance. “Since when have you turned preacher, Davie?” she mocked. “What’s got into you to-night? Put your head down here and let me comb it, the way I used to when you wore knee stockings.” “No,” he refused. She leaned toward him and slipped a round arm across his shoulders. He reached up and disengaged it gently. “No,” he said again. “You shouldn’t do[61] things like that, Glo. You used to do them once, and it didn’t matter. But now you are not the same.” [61] This time her laugh had an edge to it. “The fishes have nothing on you for the cold blood, Davie. But you’re like all the men. After you’ve made what you like out of a girl, you slap her in the face.” Vaguely he understood that she was accusing him of something. “I’m wishing for nothing but your happiness, Glo; can’t you understand that? I’ve never wished for anything else.” She was silent for a moment. Then she said:
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