her, and we could live on
herbs together in a garret, and I could keep her respect and my own. Oh,
garret-paradise! But to marry a woman who is rich, to live in luxury
with her, and to try to look unconscious while she pays the bills,--she
would despise me, I should abhor myself."

"Why should she despise you?" asked Maria Dolores. "The possession of
wealth is a mere accident. If people are married and love each other, I
can't see that it matters an atom whether their money belonged in the
first place to the man or to the woman,--it would belong henceforward to
them both equally."

"That is a very generous way of looking at it, but it is a woman's way.
No decent man could accept it," said John.

"Up to a certain point," said Maria Dolores, slowly, "I understand your
scruples. I understand that a poor man might feel that he would not like
to make the advances, if the woman he loved was rich. But suppose the
woman loved him, and knew that he loved her, and knew that it was only
his poverty which held him back, then _she_ might make the advances. She
might put aside her pride, and go halfway to meet him, and to remove his
difficulties and embarrassments. If, after that, he still did not ask
her, I think his scruples would have become mere vanity,--I think it
would show that he cared more for his mere vanity than for her
happiness."

Her voice died out. John could see that her lip quivered a little. His
throat was dry. The pulses were pounding in his temples. His brain was
all a confusion. He hardly knew what had befallen him, he hardly knew
what she had said. He only knew that there was a great ball of fire in
his breast, and that the pain of it was half an immeasurable joy.

"God forgive me," the absurd and exaggerated stickler for the dignity of
his sex wildly cried. "God knows how I love her, how I care for her
happiness. But to go to her empty-handed,--but to put myself in the
position of being kept by a woman,--God knows how impossible it is."

Maria Dolores stood up, still looking away from him.

"Well, let us hope," she said, changing her tone to one of unconcerned
detachment, "that we have been discussing baseless suppositions. Let us
hope that her heart is quite untouched. And for both your sakes," she
concluded, her head in the air, "let us hope that you and she will never
meet again. Good-bye."

She gave him a curt little nod, and walked lightly, rapidly up the
avenue.

John's brain was all a confusio