"If he but knew what was best for him, 'tes a sharp hurt and soon
auver," said Mrs. Penticost frankly; "but he'm like all men, naught but
a cheild that cries for the moon, and a woman as has a heart would
sooner see a man getten' what he wants, even when 'tes bad for 'en, than
see him eaten' his soul away with longing. There's a deal of
satisfaction in maken' our own unhappiness, and a man has that to
console him."

"You are a Job's comforter," cried Blanche, rustling out of the room.
She had heard the well-known click of the little gate, and she fled
upstairs to be alone with her thoughts and her letter for a few moments
before meeting Ishmael. She no longer doubted she was going to break off
her engagement and leave for home the next day, but she still had to
decide on the type of Blanche who should appear to him and what her
manner and aspect should be. A tender grieving, shown in a pale face and
quiet eyes, would probably be best ... and she could always introduce a
maternal note in the very accent of her "dear boy...."




CHAPTER XV

BLOWN HUSKS


Not for nothing had Ishmael given way to the incursion of the personal,
always before so jealously kept out of his life. His desire for
impersonality now only kept by him in a fierce wish to blot out his own