irony in her voice now. A change seemed to have come upon her.

"By ill-using any one person we ill-use society--the world"--he meaningly
replied.

"Whom have you ill-used?" She did not look at him.

"Many--you chiefly."

"How have you--most-ill-used me?"

"By letting you think well of me--you have done so, have you not?"

She did not speak, but lowered her head, and caught her breath slightly.
There was a silence. Then she said: "There was no reason why I should--
But you must not say these things to me. My husband--"

"Your husband knows all."

"But that does not alter it," she urged firmly. "Though he may be
willing you should speak of these things, I am not."

"Your husband is a good fellow," he rejoined. "I am not."

"You are not?" she asked wearily.

"No. What do you think was the reason that, years ago, I said we could
never be married, and that we must forget each other?"

"I cannot tell. I supposed it was some duty of which I could not know.