The custodian now took the other shoe. "He will certainly stretch them with that broad palm of his," said Ford. "But perhaps it is as well; you have a habit of wearing shoes that are too small. What ridiculous little affairs those are! Will twelve pairs a year content you?" A flush rose in her cheeks; she made no reply. "It will be very hard for you to give up your independence, your control of things," he said. But she turned towards him with a very sweet expression in her eyes. "You will do it all for me," she answered. He rose, walked about the room, coming back to lean over the gilded top of her chair and say, with emphasis, "What in the world does that old wretch mean by staying here so persistently all this time?" She laughed. Benjamin Franklin, looking up from his task, laughed too--probably on general principles of sociability and appreciation of his fee. "To go back to your faults," she said; "please come and sit down, and acknowledge them. You have a very jealous nature." "You are mistaken. However, if you like jealousy, I can easily take it up." "It will not be necessary. It is already there." "You are thinking of some particular instance; of whom did you suppose I was jealous?" But she would not say. After a while he came back to it. "You thought I was jealous of Lorimer Percival," he said. The custodian now announced that both shoes were dry; she put them on, buttoning them with an improvised button-hook made of a hair-pin. The old man stood straightening himself after his bent posture; he still smiled--probably on the same general principles. The afternoon was drawing towards its close; Ford asked him to bring round the horses. He went out; they could hear his slow, careful tread on each of the slippery stairs. Katharine had risen; she went to the mirror to adjust her riding-hat. Ford came up and stood behind her. "Do you remember when I looked at you in the glass, in this same way, a year ago?" he said. "How you talked to me that day about my poor little book! You made me feel terribly." "I am sorry. Forgive it." "But you do not forgive the book?" "I will forget it, instead. You will write no more." "Always so sure! However, I will promise, if you acknowledge that you have a jealous disposition."