wonders where you were brought up, you know."
"Oh—I was brought up somehow," answered Lawrence, vaguely. "I don't exactly remember."
"It doesn't matter," returned his companion, in a reassuring tone.
"No. If you don't mind, I don't."
Fanny Trehearne laughed a little, without looking at him, for she was intent upon what she was doing. It was a part of her nature to fix her attention upon whatever she had in hand—a fact which must account for a certain indifference in what she said. Just then, too, she was crossing the main street of the village, and there were other vehicles moving about hither and thither. More than once she nodded to an acquaintance, whom Lawrence also recognized.
"It's much more civilized than it was when I was here last," observed Lawrence. "There are lots of people one knows."
"Much too civilized," answered the young girl. "I'm beginning to hate it."
"I thought you liked society—"
"I? What made you think so?"
