"I told you I'd taken you in. I'm a mortal coward!"
"You?"
He nodded, looking off down the ravine.
"I'm afraid of death. I'm even more afraid of life."
They were only obscure phrases in her ears.
"I know you're afraid of the dark," she said, smiling gently, "but only when I'm not there. You see—I must be there."
"Poor little cousin! Lucky for you that Fate and your father have settled that you can't be 'there.'"
"I settle things for myself," she said, hotly; "and don't call me little cousin."
"Why not?"
"It seems to cut me down to childhood. Besides"—she stood up—"I'm really very tall, and I've heard enough about being a cousin."