less to us, but we could easily have paid that vulgar
man all it was worth to him.'

'I will not argue with you. I perceive now that that would do no good.'
There was a heart-broken tone in his voice that frightened Violetta. 'I
will--I will only say----'

'What?' she asked. The thin sharp sound in her voice was a note of
alarm.

'I will not marry you,' moaned the curate.

'Not marry me!' she exclaimed in astonishment.

'I love you. I shall always love you. No other woman shall ever be my
wife; but I will never marry you; and I shall go away and leave you free
to forget me.'

'But why? What have I done?' she asked, her breath catching her tones.

'You have done nothing, my poor, poor girl; but--oh, my darling, I would
gladly die if by dying I could open your eyes to see the simple
integrity of unselfishness!'

'It is very absurd for you to speak of unselfishness at the very moment
when you are selfishly giving me so much pain,' she cried, defiant.

He bent his head and covered his face with his hands.

She stood and looked at him, her cheeks flushed and her breast heaving
with a great anger.

'Good-bye, Violetta,' he said, and turned slowly away.

'I never heard of anything so dishonourable,' she cried.

And that was what the world said; the curate was in disgrace with
society for the rest of his life.

V

'HATH NOT A JEW EYES?'

Mr. Saintou the hairdresser was a Frenchman, therefore his English
neighbours regarded him with suspicion. He was also exceedingly stout,
and his stoutness had come upon him at an unbecomingly early age, so
that he had long been the object of his neighbours' merriment. When to
these facts it is added that, although a keen and prosperous business
man, he had attained the age of fifty without making any effort to
marry, enough will have been said to show why he was disliked.

Why was he not married? Were English women not good enough for him? The
pretty milliner across the street had been heard to remark in his
presence that she should never refuse a man simply because he was a
foreigner. Or if he did not want an English wife, why did he not import
one from Paris with his perfumes? No, there was no reason for his
behaviour, and Mr. Saintou was the object of his neighbours' aversion.

Neighbours are often wrong in their estimates. In the heart of this
shrewd and stout French hairdresser there lay the rare capacity for one
supreme and lasting affection. Mr. Saintou's