The first thing a young woman does, as a rule, when she has just seen the young man she likes, is to look at herself in the glass. That is if she is natural, but of course, as we all know, there are a great many very unnatural women in the world. Deborah, however, belonged to the unnatural sort, evidently; she deliberately refrained from going near the glass, though it was there waiting for her. “I daren’t look at myself, I look so hideous,” she thought, and that was just about the truth. In a fortnight’s time they broke up. It was a very miserable fortnight. For one thing, Jack was going to be married at the end of it, and it meant the entire breaking up of the only thing that had been home; and for another it meant the end of all that short and golden dream. When the last day came the pain round Deborah’s heart had reached such a pitch that it seemed almost uncontrollable. Along with it came the sense of bitter disappointment; she had quite failed to make the least impression. That was only natural; but it is so difficult to form a just opinion of ourselves. When it came to saying “good-bye,” she felt so aching and miserable inside that she thought it would be best to share the burden. “I won’t take the least notice of him when I say good-bye. He thinks I can’t live without him. Conceit!” So when it came to the last adieu she managed it better than she managed most things. Usually when she shook hands with him she did manage to leave her hand in his just the twentieth part of second, but to-day he was just the twentieth part of a second too late to catch hold of her hand at all. That pleased Deborah, or at least it pleased something within her which she was trying to identify with herself. And always before, no matter what state her eyes had been in, she had always looked at him quite straightforwardly; to-day, however, she didn’t take the trouble to look at him at all, and took no notice of him, but began talking to the next young man; yet all the time it was all she could do to keep from turning round and giving him the biggest scratch he’d ever had in his life. Then he went away, and she was left all alone, to laugh and be as foolish as usual. But all the time, down in her heart of hearts, she kept saying, “Why wouldn’t they let me kiss him? I wanted to—I wanted to.” And something else whispered, with mock sympathy, “Well, never mind. A man’s conceit is equal to a woman’s love any day. By saying ‘good-bye’ to him like that you hurt him just as much as you hurt yourself;” but somehow or other it was very cold comfort—very. Next Jack got married and the house became very dull. A few weeks later Deborah went to college. CHAPTER XIV College was very distasteful. Her one aim and object in life was to live quietly and to be peaceably let alone; but there was never any quietness here, and much less peace. Privacy was almost a thing unknown.