"I never fight now," she protested, very near to tears. "I've always given in."
Poor, timid, self-sacrificing Ruth never could understand what her brother's tempers were about. She tried so hard not to stand up against him!
"Oh, damn!" cried Hubert, and strode madly up and down the room.
It was all very futile, quite familiar.
She looked as pained as usual. "What is it, Hugh?" she gently asked.
"Of course you've given in," he flung at her. "You always do. You're always in the right: you are so keen to be! You wouldn't make me cross for worlds! It's just your damned humility I can't endure. No man on earth could possibly endure it."
"I can't help my nature," she sobbed into her handkerchief. "I do my best to please you. I try to fall into your ways, I'm sure."
Hubert came up to her presently and touched her on the shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Ruth," he said. "It was my fault. I lost my temper. I was a cad to swear but somehow—oh, I don't know," and he sank down upon the chair again. "I suppose really it's just what Boyd has often said, brother and sister weren't ever made to live together. He says all relatives have a natural antipathy to one another and——"
"I'm sure I haven't," interrupted Ruth.