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 "No, you don't," said Bess. "The most of the time you do things that you don't want to.

"Well, I just do not!" said Bob.

Bess nodded. "Yes, you do. I have eyes, Bob."

Bob straightened back his shoulders and looked at her rather insolently. "Oh, you have, have you? Well, what is the first thing that your eyes would notice about me?"

Bess went on smiling. "Well," she said, most any one would say that it was conceit and egotism—" Bob looked pleased, but gave a little ironical sniff; "but," went on Bess, "I should say that you hate yourself more than any other person I ever saw."

Bob's face changed and the arrogance went out of his shoulders. He humped over and sat with his chin on his hands, not saying a word. We all three sat silent for quite a long time. By and by Bob spoke, his voice very low. "You're right, Bess," he said; "but no one ever saw it before. I don't do what I want to—I do what I make myself do; because I don't know how to be myself. I try to make a show of being independent,