Stephen stood absolutely still in front of the opening in the trees, and as
Rose turned she met him face to face. She had never dreamed his eyes could be
so stern, his mouth so hard, and she gave a sob like a child.

"You seem to be in trouble," Stephen said in a voice so cold she thought it
could not be his.

"I am not in trouble, exactly," Rose stammered, concealing her discomfiture as
well as possible. "I am a little unhappy because I have made some one else
unhappy; and now that you know it, you will be unhappy too, and angry besides,
I suppose, though you've seen everything there was to see."

"There is no occasion for sorrow," Stephen said. "I did n't mean to break in
on any interview; I came over to give you back your freedom. If you ever cared
enough for me to marry me, the time has gone by. I am willing to own that I
over-persuaded you, but I am not the man to take a girl against her
inclinations, so we will say good-bye and end the thing here and now. I can
only wish"--here his smothered rage at fate almost choked him- "that, when you
were selecting another husband, you had chosen a whole man!"

Rose quivered with the scorn of his tone. "Size is n't everything!" she
blazed.

"Not in bodies, perhaps; but it counts for something in hearts and brains, and
it is convenient to have a sense of honor that's at least as big as a grain of
mustard-seed."

"Claude Merrill is not dishonorable," Rose exclaimed impetuously; "or at least