sob. The candle burned like a long yellow star in the shadows, yielding
only sufficient light for Julia to see the outlines of a somewhat untidy
room,--an old-fashioned mahogany wardrobe, cloudy and black, upon
old-fashioned grey paper, some cardboard boxes, and a number of china
ornaments, set out on a small table covered with a tablecloth in
crewel-work.

'I would do anything in the world for you, Emily. I am your best friend,
and yet----'

'I have no friend. I don't believe in friends. You think people are your
friends, and then you find they are not.'

'How can I convince you of the injustice of your suspicions?'

'I see all plainly enough; it is fate, I suppose.... Selfishness. We all
think of ourselves--we can't help it; and that's what makes life so
miserable.... He would be a very good match. You have got him to like you.
Perhaps you didn't intend to; but you have done it all the same.'

'But, Emily dear, listen! There is no question of marriage between me and
Mr. Price. If you will only have patience, things will come right in the
end.'

'For you, perhaps.'

'Emily, Emily! ... You should try to understand things better.'

'I feel them, even if I don't understand.'