II + 

Olivia was right in her belief that Anson was ashamed of his behavior on the night of the ball. It was not that he made an apology or even mentioned the affair. He simply never spoke of it again. For weeks after the scene he did not mention the name of OвАЩHara, perhaps because the name brought up inevitably the memory of his sudden, insulting speech; but his sense of shame prevented him from harassing her on the subject. What he never knew was that Olivia, while hating him for the insult aimed at her father, was also pleased in a perverse, feminine way because he had displayed for a moment a sudden fit of genuine anger. For a moment he had come very near to being a husband who might interest his wife. + 

But in the end he only sank back again into a sea of indifference so profound that even Aunt CassieвАЩs campaign of insinuations and veiled proposals could not stir him into action. The old woman managed to see him alone once or twice, saying to him, вАЬAnson, your father is growing old and canвАЩt manage everything much longer. You must begin to take a stand yourself. The family canвАЩt rest on the shoulders of a woman. Besides, Olivia is an outsider, really. SheвАЩs never understood our world.вАЭ And then, shaking her head sadly, she would murmur, вАЬThereвАЩll be trouble, Anson, when your father dies, if you donвАЩt show some backbone. YouвАЩll have trouble with Sybil; sheвАЩs very queer and pigheaded in her quiet way, just as Olivia was in the matter of sending her to school in Paris.вАЭ + 

And after a pause, вАЬI am the last person in the world to interfere; itвАЩs only for your own good and OliviaвАЩs and all the familyвАЩs.вАЭ + 

And Anson, to be rid of her, would make promises, facing her with averted eyes in some corner of the garden or the old house where she had skilfully run him to earth beyond the possibility of escape. And he would leave her, troubled and disturbed because the world and this family which had been saddled unwillingly upon him, would permit him no peace to go on with his writing. He really hated Aunt Cassie because she had never given him any peace, never since the days when she had kept him in the velvet trousers and Fauntleroy curls which spurred the jeers of the plain, red-haired little Sabine. She had never ceased to reproach him for вАЬnot being a man and standing up for his rights.вАЭ It seemed to him that Aunt Cassie was always hovering near, like a dark persistent fury, always harassing him; and yet he knew, more by instinct than by any process of reasoning, that she was his ally against the others, even his own wife and father and children. He and Aunt Cassie prayed to the same gods. + 

So he did nothing, and Olivia, keeping her word, spoke of OвАЩHara to Sybil one day as they sat alone at breakfast. + 

The girl had been riding with him that very morning and she sat in her riding-clothes, her face flushed by the early morning exercise, telling her mother of the beauties of the country back of Durham, of the new beagle puppies, and of the death of вАЬHardheadвАЭ Smith, who was the last farmer of old New England blood in the county. His half-witted son, she said, was being taken away to an asylum. OвАЩHara, she said, was buying his little stony patch of ground. + 

When she had finished, her mother said, вАЬAnd OвАЩHara? You like him, donвАЩt you?вАЭ + 

Sybil had a way of looking piercingly at a person, as if her violet eyes tried to bore quite through all pretense and unveil the truth. She had a power of honesty and simplicity that was completely disarming, and she used it now, smiling at her mother, candidly. + 

вАЬYes, I like him very much.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ ButвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ butвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶вАЭ She laughed softly. вАЬAre you worrying about my marrying him, my falling in loveвБ†вАФbecause you neednвАЩt. I am fond of him because heвАЩs the one person around here who likes the things I like. He loves riding in the early morning when the dew is still on the grass and he likes racing with me across the lower meadow by the gravel-pit, and wellвБ†вАФheвАЩs an interesting man. When he talks, he makes sense. But donвАЩt worry; I shanвАЩt marry him.вАЭ + 

вАЬI was interested,вАЭ said Olivia, вАЬbecause you do see him more than anyone about here.вАЭ + 

Again Sybil laughed. вАЬBut heвАЩs old, Mama. HeвАЩs more than thirty-five. HeвАЩs middle-aged. I know what sort of man I want to marry. I know exactly. HeвАЩs going to be my own age.вАЭ + 

вАЬOne canвАЩt always tell. ItвАЩs not so easy as that.вАЭ + 

вАЬIвАЩm sure I can tell.вАЭ Her face took on an expression of gravity. вАЬIвАЩve devoted a good deal of thought to it and IвАЩve watched a great many others.вАЭ + 

Olivia wanted to smile, but she knew she dared not if she were to keep her hold upon confidences so charming and naive. + 

вАЬAnd IвАЩm sure that IвАЩll know the man when I see him, right away, at once. ItвАЩll be like a spark, like my friendship with OвАЩHara, only deeper than that.вАЭ + 

вАЬDid you ever talk to Th√©r√®se about love?вАЭ asked Olivia. + 

вАЬNo; you canвАЩt talk to her about such things. She wouldnвАЩt understand. With Th√©r√®se everything is scientific, biological. When Th√©r√®se marries, I think it will be some man she has picked out as the proper father, scientifically, for her children.вАЭ + 

вАЬThatвАЩs not a bad idea.вАЭ + 

вАЬShe might just have children by him without marrying him, the way she breeds frogs. I think thatвАЩs horrible.вАЭ + 

Again Olivia was seized with an irresistible impulse to laugh, and controlled herself heroically. She kept thinking of how silly, how ignorant, she had been at SybilвАЩs age, silly and ignorant despite the unclean sort of sophistication she had picked up in the corridors of Continental hotels. She kept thinking how much better a chance Sybil had for happiness.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Sybil, sitting there gravely, defending her warm ideas of romance against the scientific onslaughts of the swarthy, passionate Th√©r√®se. + 

вАЬIt will be someone like OвАЩHara,вАЭ continued Sybil. вАЬSomeone who is very much aliveвБ†вАФonly not middle-aged like OвАЩHara.вАЭ + 

(So Sybil thought of OвАЩHara as middle-aged, and he was four years younger than Olivia, who felt and looked so young. The girl kept talking of OвАЩHara as if his life were over; but that perhaps was only because she herself was so young.) + 

Olivia sighed now, despite herself. вАЬYou mustnвАЩt expect too much from the world, Sybil. Nothing is perfect, not even marriage. One always has to make compromises.вАЭ + 

вАЬOh, I know that; IвАЩve thought a great deal about it. All the same, IвАЩm sure IвАЩll know the man when I see him.вАЭ She leaned forward and said earnestly, вАЬCouldnвАЩt you tell when you were a girl?вАЭ + 

вАЬYes,вАЭ said Olivia softly. вАЬI could tell.вАЭ + 

And then, inevitably, Sybil asked what Olivia kept praying she would not ask. She could hear the girl asking it before the words were spoken. She knew exactly what she would say. + 

вАЬDidnвАЩt you know at once when you met Father?вАЭ + 

And in spite of every effort, the faint echo of a sigh escaped Olivia. вАЬYes, I knew.вАЭ + 

She saw Sybil give her one of those quick, piercing looks of inquiry and then bow her head abruptly, as if pretending to study the pattern on her plate. + 

When she spoke again, she changed the subject abruptly, so that Olivia knew she suspected the truth, a thing which she had guarded with a fierce secrecy for so long. + 

вАЬWhy donвАЩt you take up riding again, Mother?вАЭ she asked. вАЬIвАЩd love to have you go with me. We would go with OвАЩHara in the mornings, and then Aunt Cassie couldnвАЩt have anything to say about my getting involved with him.вАЭ She looked up. вАЬYouвАЩd like him. You couldnвАЩt help it.вАЭ + 

She saw that Sybil was trying to help her in some way, to divert her and drive away the unhappiness. + 

вАЬI like him already,вАЭ said Olivia, вАЬvery much.вАЭ + 

Then she rose, saying, вАЬI promised Sabine to motor into Boston with her today. WeвАЩre leaving in twenty minutes.вАЭ + 

She went quickly away because she knew it was perilous to sit there any longer talking of such things while Sybil watched her, eager with the freshness of youth which has all life before it. + 

Out of all their talk two things remained distinct in her mind: one that Sybil thought of OвАЩHara as middle-agedвБ†вАФalmost an old man, for whom there was no longer any chance of romance; the other the immense possibility for tragedy that lay before a girl who was so certain that love would be a glorious romantic affair, so certain of the ideal man whom she would find one day. What was she to do with Sybil? Where was she to find that man? And when she found him, what difficulties would she have to face with John Pentland and Anson and Aunt Cassie and the host of cousins and connections who would be marshaled to defeat her? + 

For she saw clearly enough that this youth for whom Sybil was waiting would never be their idea of a proper match. It would be a man with qualities which OвАЩHara possessed, and even Higgins, the groom. She saw perfectly why Sybil had a fondness for these two outsiders; she had come to see it more and more clearly of late. It was because they possessed a curious, indefinable solidity that the others at Pentlands all lacked, and a certain fire and vitality. Neither blood, nor circumstance, nor tradition, nor wealth, had made life for them an atrophied, empty affair, in which there was no need for effort, for struggle, for combat. They had not been lost in a haze of transcendental maunderings. OвАЩHara, with his career and his energy, and Higgins, with his rabbitlike love-affairs and his nearness to all that was earthy, still carried about them a sense of the great zest in life. They reached down somehow into the roots of things where there was still savor and fertility. + 

And as she walked along the hallway, she found herself laughing aloud over the titles of the only three books which the Pentland family had ever producedвБ†вАФThe Pentland Family and the Massachusetts Bay Colony and Mr.¬†StruthersвАЩ two books, Cornices of Old Boston Houses and Walks and Talks in New England Churchyards. She thought suddenly of what Sabine had once said acidly of New EnglandвБ†вАФthat it was a place where thoughts were likely to grow вАЬhigher and fewer.вАЭ + 

But she was frightened, too, because in the life of enchantment which surrounded her, the virtues of OвАЩHara and Higgins seemed to her the only things in the world worth possessing. She wanted desperately to be alive, as she had never been, and she knew that this, too, was what Sybil sought in all her groping, half-blind romantic youth. It was something which the girl sensed and had never clearly understood, something which she knew existed and was awaiting her. + 