This innocent if embarrassing custom could hardly escape Barbara’s notice, but her anger was directed at me, not the girl. My “devotion” was not only absurd, she told me, it was also conspicuous and degrading. My taste was inexplicable, running as it did to immature, deranged cripples. Naturally when the girl took up the habit of coming to the edge of the field where I was plowing, waiting gravely motionless for me to drive the furrow toward her, I anticipated still further punishment from Barbara’s tongue. The girl was not to be swayed from her practice; at least I did not have the heart to speak roughly to her, and so she daily continued to stand through the long hours watching me plow, bringing me a lunch at noon and docilely sharing a small portion of it. The planting done, Midbin began the use of a new technique, showing her drawings of successive stages of the holdup, again nagging and pumping me for details to sharpen their accuracy. Her reactions pleased him immensely, for she responded to the first ones with nods and the throaty sounds we recognized as understanding or agreement. The scenes of the assault itself, of the shooting of the coachman, the flight of the footman, and her own concealment in the cornfield evoked whimpers, while the brutal depiction of the Escobars’ murder made her cower and cover her eyes. I suppose I am not particularly tactful; still I had been careful not to mention any of this to Barbara. Midbin, however, after a very gratifying reaction to one of the drawings, said casually, “Barbara hasnt been here for a long time. I wish she would come back.” When I repeated this she stormed at me. “How dare you discuss me with that ridiculous fool?” “Youve got it all wrong. There wasnt any discussion. Midbin only said—” “I know what Oliver said. I know his whole silly vocabulary.” “He only wants to help you.” “Help me? Help _me_? What’s wrong with me?” “Nothing, Barbara. Nothing.” “Am I dumb or blind or stupid?” “Please, Barbara.” “Just unattractive. I know. Ive seen you with that creature. How you must hate me to flaunt her before everyone!” “You know I only go with her to Midbin’s because he insists.” “What about your little lovers’ meetings in the woodlot when you were supposed to be plowing? Do you think I didnt know about them?” “Barbara, I assure you they were perfectly harmless. She—” “Youre a liar. More than that, youre a sneak and a hypocrite. Yes, and a mean, crawling sycophant as well. I know you must detest me, but it suits you to suffer me because of the haven. I’m not blind; youve used me, deliberately and calculatedly for your own selfish ends.” Midbin could explain and excuse her outbursts by his “emotional pathology.” Ace accepted and suffered them as inescapable, so did her father, but I saw no necessity of being always subject to her tantrums. I told her so, adding, not too heatedly I think, “Maybe we shouldn’t see each other alone after this.”