me sad when you talk that way," said the girl.

"My dear child, a sadness to-day may be food for sweet reflection in the
future. Indeed, it would even be well for you to suffer now."

"But I do not want to suffer. I do not see the need of it."

"My dear, suffering prepares us for the better life. It makes us more
thankful."

"I do not know that," she said with energy. "Sometimes it may harden us.
We may be kept from food so long that we have no manners when we come to
the table."

"Gunhild, that is a very good remark--a thoughtful remark, true in the
main, but not illustrative of the point I wish to make. But you are so
full of hope that--"

"Full of hope, madam?"

"Yes, the hope that rises from health and strength. You have so much to
look forward to. You might make a brilliant match."

"Then I must hope that sometime I may sell myself?"

"Oh, no, no. I didn't mean that. I mean that you have prospects. Shall I
be plain? You have the prospects of loving one man and marrying another.
That is called a brilliant match, I believe. Or, at least, it is a
feature of nearly all brilliant matches. Don't you think so?"

"I am not supposed to know, madam."

"Not even to please me?"

"Oh, if it please you, I am supposed to know everything."

"Good. Then tell me what you know about Mr. Milford. You understand that
it is my mission to find interest in nearly all--well, I might say, odd
persons. You have met him when I was not with you. And he must have
told you something."

"He has told me nothing that I can repeat."

"Oh, is it that bad?"

"Is what that bad, Mrs. Goodwin? I do not understand what you mean by
that bad. Perhaps what he told me did not make enough impression to be
remembered."

"But didn't he say things you did not remember, but continued to feel?"

"Yes, I believe so. You know that I do not understand men very well. I
do not understand any one very well. They make remarks about him and say
that he is mysterious, but he is plainer to me than any one. Somehow I
feel with him. He has had a hard life, I think, and that brings him
closer to me."

"Ah, my dear, the suffering I spoke of just now."

"But," the girl added, "I do not know that his hard life has made him
any better."

"Perhaps not. But it must have made him more thoughtful. After all, I'm
not so much interested in him. He is one of the characters that throw a
side-light on our lives. He can never take an essential part in our
affairs.