ering yourself is to cheer other people; therefore the sane and
obvious way of spending his money was in providing cheer for the
company. I said as much, and he said, "Certainly; but how? It was
winter time. A winter's day in London holds an insuperable barrier
against any possibility of enjoyment." I said, "Not at all! There were
heaps of things--heaps of ways." He said, "Would I kindly specify one
or two of the `heaps'?" I said, "Certainly not! The essence of a treat
lay in its quality of surprise. It was for him to think." He smiled at
me with whimsical amusement, and cried, "You said that just like a girl.
You are a girl at heart, Miss Harding, in spite of your grey hairs.
What a pity you did not marry, you would have given some man and some
kiddies such a thundering good time. I know, of course, that it was
your own doing. There must have been--"

"Oh, there were!" I cried glibly. "Several!"

"But you couldn't--You were never tempted?"

"No, never. At least--" Suddenly I found that it was necessary to
qualify that denial. "There are two things which are always tempting to
a woman, Mr Hallett--love and strength! Every woman would be glad to
have a strong, loving man to take care of her--if he were the right
man!"

"Well!" he sighed, and rose heavily from his seat. "No doubt you knew
best, but--I hope you gave him his chance! We men have many sides, but
the best side is apt to remain hidden until some woman brings it out.
If he loved you, you owed him something. I hope you played fair and
gave him his chance!"

He turned towards the door; we shook hands, and he left without another
word. I turned back to the fire, sat me down, and thought.

Ralph Maplestone had demanded his chance, and I had thought myself noble
and brave in refusing to give it. He was strong and he was loving; he
had asked nothing better than to take care of me. Would the time ever
come, when I was really old, when I should sit by a lonely hearth and
look back and regret? I thought of Mr Hallett's voice as he spoke
those last words, and saw a vision of his face. It is a beautiful face,
and I dearly love beauty. What a satisfaction it would be to go through
life looking at the curve of that nose and the modelling of that chin
and jaw! I thought of the Squire's stern voice, and his blunt,
plain-featured face. Always, always, so long as I lived, I should long
to take a pair of pincers and tweak that nose into shape, an