"You," she continued in the same hard voice, "you're altogether too good and too wise for such as I. You're so high up that I can't touch you. You live in the clouds, I among the clods. What have we two in common?" "Much, Carlia--I--" He arose and came to her, but she evaded him. "Keep away, Dorian; don't touch me. You had better go home now." "You're not yourself, Carlia. What is the matter? You have never acted like this before." "It's not because I haven't felt like it, but it's because I haven't had the courage; but now it's come out, and I can't stop it. It's been pent up in me like a flood--now it's out. I hate this old farm--I hate everything and everybody--I--hate you!" Dorian arose quickly as if he had been lifted to his feet. What was she saying? She was wild, crazy wild. "What have I done that you should hate me?" he asked as quietly as his trembling voice would allow. "Done? nothing. It's what you haven't done. What have you done to repay--my--Oh, God, I can't stand it--I can't stand it!" She walked to the wall and turned her face to it. She did not cry. The room was silently tense for a few moments. "I guess I'd better go," said Dorian. She did not reply. He picked up his hat, lingered, then went to the door. She hated him. Then let him get out from her presence. She hated him. He had not thought that possible. Well, he would go. He would never annoy any girl who hated him, not if he knew it. How his heart ached, how his very soul seemed crushed! yet he could not appeal to her. She stood with her face to the wall, still as a statue, and as cold. "Good night," he said at the door. She said nothing, nor moved. He could see her body quiver, but he could not see her face. He perceived nothing clearly. The familiar room, poorly furnished, seemed strange to him. The big, ugly enlarged photographs on the wall blurred to his vision. Carlia, with head bowed now, appeared to stand in the midst of utter confusion. Dorian groped his way to the door, and stepped out into the wintry night. When he had reached the gate, Carlia rushed to the door. "Dorian!" she cried in a heart-breaking voice, "O, Dorian, come back--come back!" But Dorian opened the gate, closed it, then walked on down the road into the darkness, nor did he once look back. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. Carlia's ringing cry persisted with Dorian all the way home, but he hardened his heart and went steadily on. His mother had gone to bed, and he sat for a time by the dying fire, thinking of what he had just passed through.