"You'd--you're so dreadfully managing," she sighed aloud. For the first time in all their acquaintanceship, Jeff's pride broke, and he held her away from him, while his lips were pathetic, and he mourned, "Why do you always try to hurt me?" "Oh, my dear, I don't." "Is it because you resent the decent things I have managed to do?" "I don't understand." "If I have an idea for a party, you think I'm 'managing.' If I think things out deeply, you say I'm dull." "Oh, you aren't. I didn't mean----" "What are you? A real woman, or one of these flirts, that love to tease a man because he's foolish enough to be honestly in love?" "I'm not--hon-estly I'm not, Jeff. It's---- You don't quite make me---- It's just that I'm not in love with you. I like you, and respect you terribly, but----" "I'm going to make you love me." His clutching fingers hurt her arm, and somehow she was not angry, but stirred. "But I'm not going to try now. Forget the Alaskan caveman. Remember, I haven't even used the word 'love.' I've just chatted about fjords, or whatever they are, but one of these days---- No. I won't do it. I want to stay here in Seattle a few days, and take you on jolly picnics, but---- Would you rather I didn't even do that? I'm----" He dropped her arm, kneaded his forehead with the heel of his palm. "I can't stand being regarded as a bothersome puppy. I can't stand it! I can't!" "Please stay, Jeff! We'll have some darling drives and things. We'll go up Rainier as far as we can." He stayed. He was anecdotal and amusing at tea, that afternoon. Claire saw how the Gilsons, and two girls who dropped in, admired him. That made her uneasy. And when Mrs. Gilson begged him to leave his hotel and stay with them, he refused with a quick look at Claire that hurt her. "He wants me to be free. He's really so much more considerate than Milt. And I hurt him. Even his pride broke down. And I've spoiled Milt's life by meddling. And I've hurt the Gilsons' feelings. And I'm not much of a comfort to father. Oh, I'm absolutely no good," she agonized. CHAPTER XXX THE VIRTUOUS PLOTTERS Mr. Geoffrey Saxton, in Alaskan tan and New York evening clothes and Piccadilly poise, was talking to the Eugene Gilsons while Claire finished dressing for the theater. Mrs. Gilson observed, "She's the dearest thing. We've become awfully fond of her. But I don't think she knows what she wants to do with life. She's rather at loose ends. Who is this Daggett boy--some university student--whom she seems to like?" "Well, since you speak of him---- I hadn't meant to, unless you did. I want to be fair to him. What did she tell you about him?" Jeff asked confidentially. "Nothing, except that he's a young engineer, and frightfully brave and all those uncomfortable virtues, and she met him in Yellowstone Park or somewhere, and he saved her from a bear--or was it a tramp?--from something unnecessary, at any rate."