he other
admitted Mrs. Elmore.

"Owen, I approve of all you said, except that about the form of the
refusal. I will read what you say. I intend that it _shall_ be made
kindly."

"Very well. I'll copy a letter of yours, or write from your dictation."

"No; you write it, and I'll criticise it."

"Oh, you talk as if I were eager to write the letter! Can't you imagine
it's being a very painful thing to me?" he demanded.

"It didn't seem to be so before."

"Why, the situation wasn't the same before he wrote this letter!"

"I don't see how. He was as much in earnest then as he is now, and you
had no pity for him."

"Oh, my goodness!" cried Elmore desperately. "Don't you see the
difference? He hadn't given any proof before"--

"Oh, proof, proof! You men are always wanting proof! What better proof
could he have given than the way he followed her about? Proof, indeed! I
suppose you'd like to have Lily prove that she doesn't care for him!"

"Yes," said Elmore sadly, "I should like very much to have her prove
it."

"Well, you won't get her to. What makes you think she does?"

"I don't. Do you?"

"N-o," answered Mrs. Elmore reluctantly.

"Celia, Celia, you will drive me mad if you go on in this way! The girl
has told me, over and over, that she wishes him dismissed. Why do you
think she doesn't?"

"I don't. Who hinted such a thing? But I don't want you to _enjoy_ doing
it."

"_Enjoy_ it? So you think I enjoy it! What do you suppose I'm made of?
Perhaps you think I enjoyed catechizing the child about her feelings
toward him? Perhaps you think I enjoy the whole confounded affair? Well,
I give it up. I will let it go. If I can't have your full and hearty
support, I'll let it go. I'll do nothing about it."

He threw Ehrhardt's letter on the table, and went and sat down by the
window. His wife took the letter up and read it over. "Why, you see he
asks you to pass it over in silence if you don't consent."

"Does he?" asked Elmore. "I hadn't noticed that."

"Perhaps you'd better read some of your letters, Owen, before you answer
them!"

"Really, I had forgotten. I had forgotten that the letter was written to
me at all. I thought it was to Lily, and she had got to thinking so too.
Well, then, I won't do anything about it." He drew a breath of relief.

"Perhaps," suggested his wife, "he asked that so as to leave himself
some hope if he should happen to meet her again."

"And we don't wish him to have any hope."