rom what we--bless our virtuous
indignation!--stigmatize as prostitution. _I_ dont mean ever to be
married, I can tell you, Marian. I would rather die than sell myself
forever to a man, and stand in a church before a lot of people whilst
George or somebody read out that cynically plain-spoken marriage service
over me."

"Stop Nelly! Pray stop! If you thought for a moment you would never say
such awful things."

"I thought we had agreed long ago that marriage is a mistake."

"Yes; but that is very different to what you are saying now."

"I cannot see----"

"Pray stop, Nelly. Dont go on in that strain. It does no good; and it
makes me very uncomfortable."

"I'll take it out in work," said Nelly calmly, returning to her
manuscript. "I can see that, as you say, talking does no good. All the
more reason why I should have another try at earning my own living. When
I become a great novelist I shall say what I like and do what I please.
For the present I am your obedient, humble servant."

At any other time Marian would have protested, and explained, and
soothed. Now she was too heavily preoccupied by her guilty conscience.
She strolled disconsolately to the window, and presently, seeing that
Miss McQuinch was at work in earnest and had better not be disturbed,
went off for a lonely walk. It was a glorious afternoon; and nature
heaped its peculiar consolations on her; so that she never thought of
returning until the sun was close to the horizon. As she came, tired,
through the plantation, with the evening glow and the light wind, in
which the branches were rustling and the leaves dropping, lulling her
luxuriously, she heard some one striding swiftly along the path behind.
She looked back; but there was a curve in the way; and she could not see
who was coming. Then it occurred to her that it might be Conolly.
Dreading to face him after what had happened, she stole aside among the
trees a little way, and sat down on a stone, hoping that he might pass
by without seeing her. The next moment he came round the curve, looking
so resolute and vigorous that her heart became fainter as she watched
him. Just opposite where she sat, he stopped, having a clear view of the
path ahead for some distance, and appeared puzzled. Marian held her
breath. He looked to the left through the trees, then to the right,
where she was.

"Good-evening, Miss Lind," he said respectfully, raising his hat.

"Good-evening," said she, trembling.

"Yo