"Oh, no woman ever could be to him what I would be. I would live for him.
He belongs to me." She bent herself forward, not crying, but her shoulders
moving. "It is such a terrible thing to be a woman, to be able to do
nothing and say nothing!"

The woman put her hand on her shoulder; the younger woman looked up into
her face; then the elder turned away and stood looking into the fire.
There was such quiet, you could hear the clock tick above the writing-
table.

The woman said: "There is one thing I can do for you. I do not know if it
will be of any use--I will do it." She turned away.

"Oh, you are so great and good, so beautiful, so different from other
women, who are always thinking only of themselves! Thank you so much. I
know I can trust you. I couldn't have told my mother, or any one but you."

"Now you must go; I have my work to finish."

The younger woman put her arms round her. "Oh, you are so good and
beautiful!"

The silk dress and the fur cloak rustled out of the room.

The woman who was left alone walked up and down, at last faster and faster,
till the drops stood on her forehead. After a time she went up to the
table; there was written illegibly in a man's hand on a fragment of
manuscript paper: "Can I come to see you this afternoon?" Near it was a
closed and addressed envelope. She opened it. In it were written the