"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 it shall be, Viola, if you are willing. It rests entirely with you."
"It is so hard to think of you as a brother. Somehow I wish you were not."