''
The idea amused Stanley. ``He doesn't care a rap
about women,'' said he. ``I hear he has let a few care
about him from time to time, but he soon ceased to
be good-natured. He hates to be bored.''
As he came just then, they had to find another
subject. Mildred observed him with more interest. She
had learned to have respect for Mrs. Brindley's
judgments. But she soon gave over watching him. That
profound calm, those eyes concentrating all the life of
the man like a burning glass-- She had a disagreeable
sense of being seen through, even to her secretest
thought, of being understood and measured and weighed
--and found wanting. It occurred to her for the first
time that part of the reason for her not liking him
was the best of reasons--that he did not like her.
The first time she was left alone with him, after this
discovery, she happened to be in an audacious and
talkative mood, and his lack of response finally goaded
her into saying: ``WHY don't you like me?'' She cared
nothing about it; she simply wished to hear what he
would say--if he could be roused into saying anything.
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