spicion
crossed his mind that Phillida wished to be released from the
engagement.

"You do not consider that you owe any duty to me at all," he said in a
voice smothered by feeling.

Phillida tried to reply, but she could not speak.

Millard was now pacing the floor. "It is all that Mrs. Frankland's work.
She isn't worthy to tie your shoes. She never fed the hungry, or clothed
the naked, or visited the sick. It's all talk, talk, talk, with her. She
talks beautifully, and she knows it. She loves to talk and to have
people crowd around her and tell her how much good she is doing. She
denies herself nothing; she feeds her vanity on the flattery she gets,
and then thinks herself a saint besides. She exhorts people to a
self-sacrifice she wouldn't practise for the world. She's making more
money out of her piety than her husband can out of law. And now she
comes with her foolish talk and breaks up the happiness you and I have
had." This was spoken with bitterness. "We can not go on in this way,"
he said, sitting down exhausted, and looking at her.

Phillida had listened in silence and anguish to his words, spoken
hurriedly but not loudly. What he said had an effect the opposite of
what he had expected. The first impression produced by his words was
that the engagement had become a source of misery to Millard; the second
thought was that, considering only her duty to him, she ought to release
him from bonds that had proved so painful. His last words seemed to
indicate that he wished the engagement broken, and after what he had
said it was evident that she must break with him or swerve from the duty
she had vowed never to desert. Taking up the word where he had left off,
she said in a low, faltering voice:

"We certainly can not go on in this way."

Then, rising, she turned to the antique desk in the corner of the
parlor. With a key from her pocket she unlocked a drawer, and from it
took hurriedly every keepsake she had had from her lover, not allowing
herself to contemplate them, but laying them all at last on the ancient
center-table in the middle of the room. With a twinge of regret, visible
to Millard, she drew her engagement ring from her finger, and with an
unsteady hand laid it softly down with the rest.

Millard was too much startled at first to know what to say. Had she
misunderstood the intent of his last remark? Or did she wish to be
released?

"It is all over, Mr. Millard. Take them, please."

"I--I have