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 also there was something of the reverence of the serf for the princess… something of the fear of that serf.

The lives of Angus and Lydia, converging from extremes, had touched, and touching, left their impress. Each, after his way, was occupied with the other far more than either imagined. The boy had his strength, the girl her power. Both were distinct, individual, personalities to be reckoned with. Such people cannot meet on a negative plane. But, let it be understood, love or thoughts of love had no residence in either. Their relationship was unique….

On the tenth of September Lydia Canfield would be eighteen years of age. In Rainbow there is one manner, and one only, of celebrating the birthday—the good, wholesome gathering of friends in the home—friends bearing gifts; in short, an old-fashioned party. Lydia invited young Rainbow to her party, and the town buzzed with anticipation…. Impelled by one of her sudden impulses Lydia invited Angus Burke.

“Are you coming to my party, Angus?” she asked unexpectedly.

After a slight hesitation he replied with admirable directness, “No.”

“Why?”

“I’ve never been to a party.”