"A man!" he appeared to snap his fingers at the thought. "I am a
weather-vane, a leaf in the wind, a--an ass. I haven't known my own mind
ten minutes during the last two years, and the only thing I've ever gone
honestly about is my own pleasure. Oh, yes, I have the courage of my
inclinations, I admit."
"But I don't understand--what does it mean?--I don't understand," faltered
Betty, vaguely troubled by his mood.
"Mean? Why, it means that I've been ruined, and it's too late to mend me.
I'm no better than a pampered poodle dog. It means that I've gotten
everything I wanted, until I begin to fancy there's nothing under heaven I
can't get." Then, in one of his quick changes of temper, his face cleared
with a burst of honest laughter.
She grew merry instantly, and as she smiled up at him, he saw her eyes like
rays of hazel light between her lashes. "Has the black crow gone?" she
asked. "Do you know when I have a gray day Mammy calls it the black crow
flying by. As long as his shadow is over you, there's always a gloom at the
brain, she says. Has he quite gone by?"
"Oh, he flew by quickly," he answered, laughing, "he didn't even stay to
flap his wings." Then he became suddenly grave. "I wonder what kind of a
man you'll fall in love with, Betty?" he said abruptly.
She drew back startled, and her eyes reminded him of those of a frightened
wild thing he had come upon in the spring woods one day. As she shrank from
him in her dim blue dress, her hair fell from its coil and lay like a gold
bar across her bosom, which fluttered softly with her quickened breath.
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