iffened nervously. For he burst out: Oh yes; he had
drifted into it when it was a toss up if it wasn't his body instead
that would be found drifting out to sea from the first wharf of San
Francisco. Yes, he had been a common laborer,--a farm hand, in those
fields she had passed,--a waiter in the farm kitchen, and but for luck
he might be taking her orders now in this very hotel. It was not her
fault if he was not in the gutter.

She raised her thin hand with a tired gesture as if to ward off the
onset of his words. "The same old Jim," she repeated; "and yet I thought
you had forgotten all that now, and become calmer and more sensible
since you had taken flesh and grown so matter of fact. You ought to have
known then, as you know now, that I never could have been anything to
you as long as I was tied to Dick. And you know you forced your presents
on me, Jim. I took them from YOU because I would take nothing from Dick,
for I hated him. And I never knew positively that you were in straits
then; you know you always talked big, Jim, and were always going to make
your fortune with the next thing you had in hand!"

It was true, and he remembered it. He had not intended this kind of
recrimination, but he was exasperated with her wearied acceptance of his
reproaches and by a sudden conviction that his long-cherished grievance
against her now that he had voiced it was inadequate, mean, and
trifling. Yet he could not help saying:--

"Then you had presents from Sylvester, too. I presume you did not hate
him, either?"

"He would have married me the day after I got my divorce."

"And so would I," burst out Reddy.

She looked at him fixedly. "You would?" she said with a peculiar
emphasis. "And now"--

He colored. It had been part of his revengeful purpose on seeing her to
tell her of his engagement to Kelly. He now found himself tongue-tied,
irresolute, and ashamed. Yet he felt she was reading his innermost
thoughts.

She, however, only lowered her eyes, and with the same tired expression
said: "No matter now. Let us talk of something nearer. That was two
months ago. And so you have charge of this hotel! I like it so much. I
mean the place itself. I fancy I could live here forever. It is so far
away and restful. I am so sick of towns and cities, and people. And this
little grove is so secluded. If one had merely a little cottage here,
one might be so happy."

What did she mean?--what did she expect?--what did she think of d