people, and I have never seen the man yet who could give a woman all the
love she wanted. Women seem to be born with a kind of divination--a
second sight where love is concerned--they aren't content with the mere
husk, and yet that is all that the most of them ever get--"

"But my father?" protested Laura; "he broke his heart for her."

A smile at the fine ironic humour of existence crossed the old man's
sunken lips. "He gave to her dead what she had never had from him
living," he returned. "When she was gone everything--even the man's life
for which he had sacrificed her--turned worthless. He always had the
seeds of consumption, I suppose, and his gnawing remorse caused them to
develop."

A short silence followed his words, while Laura stared at him with eyes
which seemed to weigh gravely the meaning of his words. Then, rising
hurriedly, she made a gesture as if throwing the subject from her and
walked rapidly to the door.

"Aunt Rosa and Aunt Sophy are coming to dine," she said, "so I must
glance at the table. I can't remember now whether I ordered the oysters
or not."

The old man glanced after her with timid disappointment. "So you haven't
time to hear me play?" he asked wistfully.

"Not now--there's Aunt Angela's dinner to be seen to. If Mr. Bleeker
comes with Aunt Sophy you can play to him. He likes it."

"But he always goes to sleep, Laura. He doesn't listen--and besides he