As she entered the little village of Piping Tree, her desire to hear
Abel's speech left her as suddenly as it had come, and she began to wish
that she had not permitted herself to follow her impulse, or that at the
last moment she had forbidden Gay to accompany her. In place of the cool
determination of an hour ago, a confusing hesitancy, a baffling shyness,
had taken possession of her, weakening her resolution. She felt all at
once that in coming to Piping Tree she had yielded herself to an emotion
against which she ought to have struggled to the end. Simple as the
incident of the ride had appeared to her in the morning, she saw now
that it was, in reality, one of those crucial decisions, in which the
will, like a spirited horse, had broken control and swerved suddenly
into a diverging road in spite of the pull of the bit.
"I don't believe I'll stay, after all, Jonathan," she said weakly. "It's
so hot and I don't really want to hear him."
"But we're here now, Molly, and he's already begun." Against the
feminine instinct to fight the battle and then yield the victory, he
opposed the male determination to exact the reward in return for the
trouble.
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