"It is rather awful," admitted Von Rosen, "but somehow I never do feel as if I need be quite as straight-laced with you." "Mr. von Rosen, you have talked with me exactly twice, and I am at a loss as to whether I should consider that remark of yours as a compliment or not." "I meant it for one," said Von Rosen earnestly. "I should not have used that expression. What I meant was I felt that I could be myself with you, and not weigh words or split hairs. A clergyman has to do a lot of that, you know, Miss Eustace, and sometimes (perhaps all the time) he hates it; it makes him feel like a hypocrite." "Then it is all right," said Annie rather vaguely. She gazed up at the weave of leaves and blossoms, then down at the wavering carpet of their shadows. "It is lovely here," she said. The young man looked at the slender young creature in the blue gown and smiled with utter content. "It is very odd," he said, "but nothing except blue and that particular shade of blue would have harmonised." "I should have said green or pink." "They would surely have clashed. If you can't melt into nature, it is much safer to try for a discord. You are much surer to chord. That blue does chord, and I doubt if a green would not have been a sort of swear word in colour here." "I am glad you like it," said Annie like a school girl. She felt very much like one. "I like you," Von Rosen said abruptly. Annie said nothing. She sat very still. "No, I don't like you. I love you," said Von Rosen. "How can you? You have talked with me only twice." "That makes no difference with me. Does it with you?" "No," said Annie, "but I am not at all sure about--" "About what, dear?" "About what my aunts and grandmother will say." "Do you think they will object to me?" "No-o." "What is it makes you doubtful? I have a little fortune of my own. I have an income besides my salary. I can take care of you. They can trust you to me." Annie looked at him with a quick flush of resentment. "As if I would even think of such a thing as that!" "What then?" "You will laugh, but grandmother is very old, although she sits up so straight, and she depends on me, and--" "And what?" "If I married you, I could not, of course, play pinocle with grandmother on Sunday." "Oh, yes, you could. I most certainly should not object." "Then that makes it hopeless." Von Rosen looked at her in perplexity. "I am afraid I don't understand you, dear little soul." "No, you do not. You see, grandmother is in reality very good, almost too good to live, and thinking she is being a little wicked playing pinocle on Sunday when Aunt Harriet and Aunt Susan don't know it, sort of keeps her going. I don't just know why myself, but I am sure of it. Now the minute she was sure that you, who are the minister, did not object, she would not care a bit about pinocle and it would hurt her."