“David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. The uncanny directness of those gray eyes, the absence of diffidence, the beauty of the face in profile (full, it seemed a little too broad to make for perfect beauty), the mellow voice that came full and free, without hesitance, all combined to mark her as the most unusual young woman he had ever met. His natal burr was always in evidence when he was sentimentally affected. For nearly thirty years he had lived here in contented loneliness; then youth had to come and fill him with discontent. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. I love some one else.
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