Sue remembered Ann's burst of feeling which had so surprised her. "I reckon that she has grown up so gradually I haven't noticed. She has such a careless way with her most of the time. She plays with every mortal thing that comes her way, Coats--peeps at it with her eyelids down--seein' if it's goin' to give her any fun, it seems to me. It drives father mad to see her. I've often watched her, with the collie, with Ben--with every breathing thing that comes her way. An' she does lay hold on people--if there's a creature on earth Ben Brokaw loves, it's Ann. It's Ann has kept him here these last two years--she can do anything with him." "It was born in her," Coats said evenly. It was his first reference to his wife and he turned from it, spoke more clearly. "Sue, Ann's the quintessence of attraction--I've realized it to-day. She's one of those women you might wall up and use plenty of stone and mortar to do it, and still she'd draw some man to her. It's her portion--we might as well recognize it and allow for it in the future." "You mean she's bound to marry?" It was not all Coats had meant, but he said, "Yes." "But she mustn't marry here, Coats--it's what father has always said.... What chance is there here for a girl, anyway. The few boys that have stayed here are a shiftless lot, an' the Hunt Club set--they're rich, most of them, an' fast--we're just farmers to them--a girl situated like Ann is mustn't have anything to do with them." "The club is since my time--are they about much, the men?" "They're all over the place--as long as there's huntin'," Sue said with disgust, "an' they're always about the club, summer and winter. Father stopped their ridin' through here--he put up the gate an' notice--and he arrested Garvin Westmore, Coats." Coats was silent, Sue guessed, because he might say too much; hatred of the Westmores lay deep in him. Sue liked the restraint he put upon himself. He had gone away a wretched silent man, and had returned a restrained yet forceful personality. He had broadened and gained weight, both mentally and physically. She had guessed from his letters that he had improved, and she had often thought, miserably, that she was not keeping pace with him. She had never had her sister's beauty or attraction, and even her prettiness was fading. And mentally?... What chance had she had, tied down to the farm?... Then bitterness slipped from her. He was here and, she hoped intensely, was going to stay. The fear that had tormented her, that he might marry out of sheer loneliness, was set at rest, and if she could feel certain that he would stay, her cup of joy would be full. All she dared hope for was that he would stay where she could care for him.