In the same tongue Grant answered him sharply, and after that was silence broken only by the subdued table sounds. Evadna's eyes filled slowly until she finally pushed back her chair and hurried out into the yard and away from the dogged silence of that blanketed figure at her elbow. She was scarcely settled, in the hammock, ready for a comforting half hour of tears, when someone came from the house, stood for a minute while he rolled a cigarette, and then came straight toward her. She sat up, and waited defensively. More baiting, without a doubt--and she was not in the mood to remember any promises about being a nice, gentle little thing. The figure came close, stooped, and took her by the arm. In the half--light she knew him then. It was Grant. “Come over by the pond,” he said, in what was almost a command. “I want to talk to you a little.” “Does it occur to you that I might not want to talk t to you?” Still, she let him help her to her feet. “Surely. You needn't open your lips if you don't want to. Just 'lend me your ears, and be silent that ye may hear.' The boys will be boiling out on the porch, as usual, in a minute; so hurry.” “I hope it's something very important,” Evadna hinted ungraciously. “Nothing else would excuse this high-handed proceeding.” When they had reached the great rock where the pond had its outlet, and where was a rude seat hidden away in a clump of young willows just across the bridge, he answered her. “I don't know that it's of any importance at all,” he said calmly. “I got to feeling rather ashamed of myself, is all, and it seemed to me the only decent thing was to tell you so. I'm not making any bid for your favor--I don't know that I want it. I don't care much about girls, one way or the other. But, for all I've got the name of being several things--a savage among the rest--I don't like to feel such a brute as to make war on a girl that seems to be getting it handed to her right along.” He tardily lighted his cigarette and sat smoking beside her, the tiny glow lighting his face briefly now and then. “When I was joshing you there before supper,” he went on, speaking low that he might not be overheard--and ridiculed--from the house, “I didn't know the whole outfit was making a practice of doing the same thing. I hadn't heard about the dead tarantula on your pillow, or the rattler coiled up on the porch, or any of those innocent little jokes. But if the rest are making it their business to devil the life out of you, why--common humanity forces me to apologize and tell you I'm out of it from now on.” “Oh! Thank you very much.” Evadna's tone might be considered ironical. “I suppose I ought to say that your statement lessens my dislike of you--” “Not at all.” Grant interrupted her. “Go right ahead and hate me, if you feel that way. It won't matter to me--girls never did concern me much, one way or the other. I never was susceptible to beauty, and that seems to be a woman's trump card, always--”