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 you try twice as hard because you know you don't like her. You can't help it, Alice."

"What?"

"Not liking her. Now take me, for instance," Myra went on. "I offer little to look at, the Lord knows; I'm short and plain . . . "

"You're not!"

"I adore you, darling, but we will stick to the unflattering fact for the present crisis," Myra retorted. "I am what is perfectly obvious. I'm not in Fidelia Netley's class at all. I couldn't possibly compete with her and come between her and any man she wanted. By the same token, she can't come between me and Lan; for he isn't after looks or he'd never have cared for me. Therefore I can't have anything actually personal against her; but I hate her, Alice!"

"No!" denied Alice, more emphatically for Myra's hot vehemence.

"I hate her; hate her," Myra repeated, amazing herself with her own feeling. "I can't tell you why but I suppose it's because I'm afraid of her. I'm not afraid of her for myself, I just told you; so it can't be personal. I reckon it's generic fear—the sort of fear they talk about in biology. You fear an enemy if it's the sort that has hurt or can hurt your kind whether it can really do anything to you or not. At moments I was almost amused to death, she was so frank and absolutely after just one thing. I never heard anybody quite so open as when she said to me, "My dear, which are the men you know?" I thought I would positively expire. But the men won't!"