Coats spoke again, and of Ann. "I don't know just what to do for her," he said thoughtfully. "You wrote that she had no head for study. If she hasn't, sending her away to school would be a mistake--just courting mischief.... I'm inclined to think that she'll be best off here--until she's older--then I'll try to send her west--put her with people who will look after her and see that she gets a chance to marry, for that's what it will be with her. She's bound to have her bit of life, have it and pay for it, the certainty of it is written all over her, and she'll have a better chance of happiness somewhere else than here." His voice deepened. "You see, Sue, she's not really one of us--that's the thing has been borne in on me to-day. It's an old wound opened, and it's made me feel a little sick; her mother was never meant for this place--or for me. You know how it was with her--just that craving for all the things we were not. It showed in every look and word of Marian's, unconsciously, and it shows doubly in Ann.... Why, Sue, when I looked up this morning and saw her standing there, where Marian often stood, black and white, that hair and brow of hers, and with Marian's lips smiling at me, it was exactly as if a ghost had risen up and beckoned to me! I lost hold on myself. I did the best I could, but my best was bad. I froze whatever affection the child has for me--just froze it forever." He ended helplessly, a sudden breaking away from the restraint that was habitual with him: "She's a woman grown, Sue--I didn't expect it to be that way--I never dreamed it would be like that--you never told me she looked like that--you never told me how she looked!" "You never asked me to tell you," Sue said painfully. Coats quieted, gained control of himself almost instantly. "I didn't mean to let myself go like that. It's the last time I'll speak of things that can't be helped. The best I can do is to watch over Ann and give her a chance." "It's the best any of us can do, Coats," Sue's voice was still husky. Because of the note of pain, Coats drew his chair close to hers, touched her arm. "You've always done your best, Sue. I left you to bear most of the burden, but I've come back to it. I'm going to stay, Sue--it's going to be lifted from your shoulders to mine.... And I'm glad to be back. I belong here--I'm no money-maker. I'm fitted for just this--to draw a living out of the soil and enjoy doing it.... I can't expect help from Ann--she's bound to go out into the world and live--but you'll stand by me, Sue?" The assurance Sue longed for had been given her. "Yes, I'll stand by you!" she said deeply. "I'll stand by you always, Coats--I'm fitted for just this, too." XVII COMPLEXITIES