"What shall we do about it, love?" asked Clara, enjoying her friend's tirade. "_You_ will submit to it, and get a mental dyspepsia, like all the other fashionable girls. I won't submit, if I can help it; even if I shock Mrs. Grundy by my efforts to get plain bread and beef instead of confectionery." Anna walked in silence for a moment, and then burst out again, more energetically than ever. "Oh! I do wish I could find one sensible man, who would treat me as he treats his male friends,--even roughly, if he is honest and true; who would think me worthy of his confidence, ask my advice, let me give him whatever I have that is wise and excellent, and be my friend in all good faith." "Ahem!" said Clara, with a significant laugh, that angered Anna. "You need not try to abash me with your jeers. I know what I mean, and I stand by my guns, in spite of your 'hems.' I do _not_ want lovers. I've had dozens, and am tired of them. I will not marry till I know the man thoroughly; and how _can_ I know him with this veil between us? They don't guess what I really am; and I want to prove to them and to myself that I possess brains and a heart, as well as 'heavenly eyes,' a 'queenly figure,' and a 'mouth made for kissing.'" The scorn with which Anna uttered the last words amused her friend immensely, for the petulant beauty had never looked handsomer than at that moment. "If any man saw you now, he'd promise whatever you ask, no matter how absurd. But don't excite yourself, dear child; it is too warm for heroics." Anna leaned on the wide baluster a moment, looking thoughtfully out upon the sea; and as she gazed a new expression stole over her charming face, changing its disdainful warmth to soft regret. "This is not all a whim. I know what I covet, because I had it once," she said, with a sigh. "I had a boy friend when I was a girl, and for several years we were like brother and sister. Ah! what happy times we had together, Frank and I. We played and studied, quarrelled and made up, dreamed splendid dreams, and loved one another in our simple child fashion, never thinking of sex, rivalry, or any of the forms and follies that spoil maturer friendships." "What became of him? Did he die angelically in his early bloom, or outgrow his Platonics with round jackets?" asked Clara. "He went to college. I went abroad, to be 'finished off;' and when we met a year ago the old charm was all gone, for we were 'in society' and had our masks on." "So the boy and girl friendship did not ripen into love and end the romance properly?"