laudable, but I have other thoughts--that give me trouble enough."

"What thoughts?"

"Such as one doesn't talk about--if you insist on frankness."

Her eyes wandered.

"It's only right to tell you," she said, after silence, "that I
dread poverty as much as ever I did. And I think poverty in marriage
a thousand times worse than when one is alone."

"Well, we agree in that. But why do you insist upon it just now? Are
_you_ beginning to be sorry that we ever met?"

"Not a day passes but I feel sorry for it."

"I suppose you are harping on the old scruple. Why will you plague
me about it?"

"I mean," said Eve, with eyes down, "that you are the worse off for
having met me, but I mean something else as well. Do you think it
possible that anyone can owe too much gratitude, even to a person
one likes?"

He regarded her attentively.

"You feel the burden?"

She delayed her answer, glancing at him with a new expression--a