The Man Who Hesitates

Of course, he might leave the village, but he made a wry face upon
discovering, through laboured analysis, that he didn't want to go away.
It was really a charming spot--hunting and fishing to be had for the
asking, fine accommodations at Mrs. Pendleton's, beautiful scenery,
bracing air--in every way it was just what he needed. Should he let
himself be frightened out of it by a newspaper woman who lived at the
top of the hill? Hardly!

None the less, he realised that a man might firmly believe in Affinity,
and, through a chain of unfortunate circumstances, become the victim
of Propinquity. He had known of such instances and was now face to face
with the dilemma.

Then his face flooded with dull colour. "Darn it," he said to himself,
savagely, "what an unmitigated cad I am! All this is on the assumption
that she's likely to fall on my neck at any minute! Lord!"

Yet there was a certain comfort in the knowledge that he was safe, even
if he should fall in love with Miss Thorne. That disdainful young woman
would save him from himself, undoubtedly, when he reached the danger
point, if not before.

"I wonder how a fellow would go about it anyway," he thought. "He
couldn't make any sentimental remarks, without being instantly frozen.
She's like the Boston girls we read about in the funny papers. He
couldn't give her things, either, except flowers or books, or sweets, or
music. She has more books than she wants, because she reviews'em for the
paper, and I don't think she's musical. She doesn't look like the candy
fiends, and I imagine she'd pitch a box of chocolates into the sad sea,
or give it to Hepsey. There's nothing left but flowers--and I suppose
she wouldn't notice'em.