[Gutenberg 6013] • Viola Gwyn

Excerpt: ...the weeds to the fence, upon which she rested her elbows while she gazed upon him with a mocking smile in the eyes that lay far back in the shovel-like hood of her black quaker bonnet, he experienced a sudden riotous tumult in the region of his heart. Shaded by the dark, extended wings of the bonnet, her face was like a dusky rose possessed of the human power to smile. The ribbon, drawn close under her chin, was tied in a huge bow-knot, while at the back of her head the soft, loose cap of the bonnet fitted snugly over hair that he knew would gleam with tints of bronze if exposed to the rays of the sinking sun. "Not at all," he rejoined. "I am wondering just where I'd better begin." "Did you find the house all right?" "Yes. You have saved me a lot of trouble, Viola." "Don't give me credit for it. Mother did everything. I suppose you know that the furniture and other things belong to you by rights. She didn't give them to you out of charity." "The last thing in the world I should expect would be charity from your mother," he said, stung by the obvious jibe. She smiled tolerantly. "She is more charitable than you imagine. It was only last night that she said she wished Barry Lapelle was half as good and upright as you are." "That was very kind of her. But if such were the case, I dare say it never would have occurred to you to fall in love with him." He had come up to the fence and was standing with his hand on the top rail. She met his ironic gaze for a moment and then lowered her eyes. "I wish it were possible for us to be friends, Kenny," she surprised him by saying. "It doesn't seem right for us to hate each other," she went on, looking up at him again. "It's not our fault that we are who and what we are. I can understand mother's attitude toward you. You are the son of another woman, and I suppose it is only natural for her to be jealous. But you and I had the same father. It-it ought to be different with us, oughtn't it?" "It ought to be, -and...