light. In fact, that exquisitely fine young gentleman loved Edith well
enough to marry her, but not to work for her. That was a sacrifice
that he could not make for any woman. Though out of his natural
kindness and good-nature he felt very sorry for her, and wanted to
help and pet her, he had been shown his danger so clearly that he was
constrained and awkward when with her, for, to tell the truth, his
father had taken him aside and said:

"Look here, Gus. See to it that you don't entangle yourself with Miss
Allen, now her father has failed. She couldn't support you now, and
you never can support even yourself. If you would go to work like a
man--but one has got to be a man to do that. It seems true, as your
mother says, that you are of too fine clay for common uses. Therefore,
don't make a fool of yourself. You can't keep up your style on a
pretty face, and you must not wrong the girl by making her think you
can take care of her. I tell you plainly, I can't bear another ounce
added to my burden, and how long I shall stand up under it as it is, I
can't tell."

Gus listened with a sulky, injured air. He felt that his father never
appreciated him as did his mother and sisters, and indeed society at
large. Society to Gus was the ultra-fashionable world of which he was
one of the shining lights. The ladies of the family quite restored his
equanimity by saying:

"Now see here, Gus, don't dream of throwing yourself away on Edith
Allen. You can marry any girl you please in the city. So, for Heaven's
sake" (though what Heaven had to do with their advice it is hard to
say), "don't let her lead you on to say what you would wish unsaid.
Remember they are no more now than any other poor people, except that