When Jim had thought of the woman who was to share his life he had pictured her as bright with star-brightness. He would stand something in awe of her, yet her brightness would not be cold, aloof—not cold moon rays. It would be tender, glowing, throbbing, but, above all, pure, inspiringly pure. Marie knew evil. Her discontent had seen its beckoning finger; she had felt the persuasive touch of its hand on her arm—and had not fled in horror. She eyed it cynically, plumbing its possibilities. Jim’s girl would have felt herself indelibly smirched by thoughts that Marie gave willing housing to. Withal, what did he think of her? What was his interest in her? He could not answer. He dared not answer himself, for he found himself contemplating her with fascination. There was an appeal to her. Her possibilities were magnificent. He found himself wishing for her presence, for the sight of her movements of grace, the sound of her voice, the vivid life desire that lay in her eyes. “Moran takes her to the top of a high mountain and shows her the kingdoms of the world,” he said, in a hard voice. “He offers them to her.” “And you’re afraid she’ll accept?” “She hates Diversity; life discontents her. She is bored. Moran plans deliberately, adds lure to lure. If he catches her in the mood—” “Interestin’ girl, eh? Talk intelligent? Good company?” “She can be if she chooses.” “Ever try to git her to choose?” “She doesn’t like me.” “Huh! Hain’t much in the way of excitement in Diversity, but pleasure’s where you look for it hard enough. I call to mind enjoyin’ buggy rides. Ever try to make things pleasant for Marie?” “No.” Jim said it with a guilty feeling. “My experience,” said Zaanan, “is that the run of girls prefers a decent, entertainin’ young man to a bad old one. In gen’ral my notion is folks’d rather be good than bad, rather pick out right than wrong. Buggy hire don’t come expensive.” The old fellow eyed Jim with a twinkle. Jim returned Zaanan’s look; comprehension came to him. “Judge Frame,” he demanded, “did you send me to Mrs. Stickney’s because Marie Ducharme was there?” The twinkle in his eye answered Zaanan’s. “Was I just a checker you were moving in your game?” “It’s my policy,” said Zaanan, “to git as many young checkers as I could moved safe into the king row of marriage.” “But she dislikes me.” “Hain’t heard you say you was prejudiced ag’in her. Ever ask her if she disliked you? Um! Better try a few buggy rides first. Kin you drive with one hand?” “I believe,” said Jim, “you’d try to regulate the sex of Diversity’s babies.” “If I calc’lated it’d benefit the town I dun’no’ but I’d kind of look into the matter. G’-by, Jim!” CHAPTER XIV