er make any difference. If
it weren't for them I'd ask you to marry me to-morrow. I'm only giving
you up as you're giving me up, because of them. But if I can't marry
you, I want you to let me make things a little less hard for you."

"How?"

"Well, for one thing, I don't believe you've anything to live on."

"What makes you think that?"

"Marston told me that if you married you forfeited your income. I
suppose that meant that you had nothing of your own."

"It did."

"You've nothing?"

"My father would give me fifty pounds a year if I kept straight. But he
can't afford it. It means that my little sisters go without dresses."

"And you've no home, Kitty?"

She shook her head.

"They can't have me at home, you see."

He sighed.

"If I looked after you, Kitty, do you think you would keep straight? If
I made a home for you, somewhere, where you won't be too unhappy?"

"You mean you'd take care of me?"

"Yes. As far as I can."

Her face flushed deeply.

"No," she said. "No. I mustn't let you do that."

"Why not? It's nothing, Kitty. It's the least that I can do. And you'd
be very lonely."

"I would. I would be miserable--in between."

"Between?"

"When you weren't there."

"Kitty, dear child, I can't be there."

She shrank back, the flush died out of her face and left it white.

"I see. You didn't mean that I was to live with you?"

"Poor child--no."

"I--I didn't understand."

"No," he said gently, "no."

"You see how hopeless I am?"

"I see what my responsibility would be if I left you to yourself."

"And--_what_ do you want to do?"

"I want to provide for you and your future."

"Dear Robert, you can't possibly provide--for either."

"I can. I've got a little house in the country, if you'll take it, and I
can spare enough out of my income."

She smiled.

"You can't afford it."

"If I could afford to marry, I could afford that."

"I see. It's a beautiful scheme, Robert. And in the little house where
I'm to live, you will come sometimes, and see me?"

"I think it would be better not."

"And what am I to do, if--if things are too hard for me? And if you are
the only one----?"

"_Then_ you're to send for me."

"I see. I've only to send for you and you'll come?"

"Of course I'll come."

"When I can't bear it any longer, am I to send for you?"

"You're to send for me when you're in any trouble, or any difficulty--or
any danger."

"And the way out of the trouble--and