was gentle-hearted, for the kindness of his acts proved that. She knew
that he was, really, a gentleman, for his manner was so perfectly
considerate, so ever kind. She did not realize that she was thinking of
him as a lover; but she dreamed, there, of the girls down in the
bluegrass and wondered how it must seem to them to have lovers such as
he. She could but very vaguely speculate as to their emotions or
appearance, but her speculations on both points, vague as they might be,
made her suffer strangely and cast queer, furtive little side-glances at
him. In her heart were stirrings of keen jealousy of these distant
maidens, but this she did not realize.

She broke into his revery with: "Don't you know any women, down there,
but your aunt?"

"Er--what?"

"Don't you know any women, down there, but your aunt?"

"Why, yes," said he, and laughed. "I know a lot of women, down there;
lots and lots of women, certainly."

"All them that go to balls, and such?"

"Many of them."

"Do you like to dance with them?"

"Oh, yes; of course."

"Tell me--all about the things they wear." This was not quite the