"I suppose I looked worried, of course; I had no time to change or even
fix my hair; I had on that green dress, and it NEVER was becoming. And
you only spoke to me on account of my awful looks?"

"I saw only your wrestling soul, Ellen, and I thought you needed comfort
and help."

She was silent for a moment, and then, leaning forward, picked up the
poker and began to thrust it absently between the bars.

"And if it had been some other girl crying and looking awful, you'd have
spoken to her all the same?"

This was a new idea to Mr. Rylands, but with most men logic is supreme.
"I suppose I would," he said slowly.

"And married her?" She rattled the bars of the grate with the poker as
if to drown the inevitable reply.

Mr. Rylands loved the woman before him, but it pleased him to think that
he loved truth better. "If it had been necessary to her salvation, yes,"
he said.

"Not Tinkie?" she said suddenly.

"SHE never would have been in your contrite condition."

"Much you know! Girls like that can cry as well as laugh, just as they
want to. Well! I suppose I DID look horrid." Nevertheless, she seemed
to gain some gratification from her husband's reply, and changed