They despise me as a worldling, and I don't like
being despised." For the moment, it was the old Phebe who was speaking.
"Don't tell," she begged. "I'd rather die than have them know it at home.
How long are you going to stay here?"
"About a week, I only came over last night."
"I don't see why I am glad to see you," Phebe said, with characteristic
frankness. "I didn't know you much at Quantuck; it probably is because I
associate you with the home people. You used to be around with Hope a
good deal."
"What's the use of analyzing it?" he answered. "I'm here, and you are
homesick and glad to see me. That's enough for any practical purposes.
When are you going to play golf with me?"
"Can you really play?"
"I shouldn't dare ask you, if I couldn't. One thing that has brought me
over here is a thirsting to beat you."
"I haven't touched a club since I came."
"Did it ever occur to you, Miss McAlister, that you were very lazy?"
"Did it ever occur to you, Mr. Barrett, that you were outspoken?"
Like a pair of children, they laughed together, and Phebe suddenly
discovered that his eyes were singularly clear and frank. She also
discovered that the day was much finer than she had supposed, the
sunlight clearer, the air more bracing.
"We may as well cry quits," she said. "I fought you rather violently; you
retaliated by telling my family the one sealed chapter of my life.
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