if there had been actual
contact?

"You wouldn't have done that?" she said.

"No, I shouldn't have done it," he replied.

"I can't think why. The wretched creature--I should have felt troubled if
I'd ignored him."

"But it's a profession. It's as much a part of the national customs as
dancing and drinking."

"Yes, I know. A profession ... but isn't that all the more reason why we
should give him a little help?"

"A reason why you should permit yourself to be imposed upon?"

"I can't help thinking further than that. After all, it's he and his kind
that must have been imposed upon in the beginning. It's being a profession
makes me believe that all the people who might have helped him, who might
have given him a chance to be happy and respectable, really conspired
against him in some way. You have to believe that it's the rule that some
must be comfortable and some wretched."

"A beggar is a beggar," said Harboro. "And he was filthy."

"But don't you suppose he'd rather be the proprietor of a wine-shop, or
something of that sort, if he had had any choice?"

"Well.... It's not a simple matter, of course. I'm glad you did what you
felt you ought to do." It occurred to Harboro that he was setting up too
much opposition to her whims--whims which seemed rooted in her principles
as well as her impulses. It was as if their minds were of different
shapes: hers circular, his square; so that there could be only one point
of contact between them--that one point being their love for each other.
There would be a fuller conformity after a while, he was sure. He must try
to understand her, to get at her odd point of view. She might be right
occasionally, when they were in disagreement.

He touched her lightly on the shoulder. "I'm afraid we ought to be getting
on to the madame's," he said.

CHAPTER VI

Harboro would have made you think of a bear in a toy-shop when he sat down
in the tiny front room of Madame Boucher's millinery establishment. He was
uncomfortably, if vaguely, conscious of the presence of many hats,
displayed on affairs which were like unfinished music-racks.

He had given Madame Boucher certain instructions--or perhaps liberties
would be a better word. Mrs. Harboro was to be shown only the best
fabrics, he told her; and no pains were to be spared to make a dress which
would be a credit to madame's establishment. Madame had considered this,
and him, and had smiled. Madame's smile had impressed hi