'll bolt with some of your old friends!"

She turned a quick, scared face upon him for an instant. But only for
an instant. Her hysteric little laugh returned, at once, followed by her
weary, worried look. "No, Jack, you don't know him! If it was only that!
He cares only for me in his own way,--and," she stammered as she went
on, "I've no luck in making him happy."

She stopped. The wind shook the house and fired a volley of rain
against the windows. She took advantage of it to draw a torn lace-edged
handkerchief from her pocket behind, and keeping the tail of her eyes in
a frightened fashion on Jack, applied the handkerchief furtively, first
to her nose, and then to her eyes.

"Don't do that," said Jack fastidiously, "it's wet enough outside."
Nevertheless, he stood up and gazed at her.

"Well," he began.

She timidly drew nearer to him, and took a seat on the kitchen table,
looking up wistfully into his eyes.

"Well," resumed Jack argumentatively, "if he won't 'chuck' you, why
don't you 'chuck' HIM?"

She turned quite white, and suddenly dropped her eyes. "Yes," she said,
almost inaudibly, "lots of girls would do that."

"I don't mean go back to your old life," continued Jack. "I reckon
you've had enough of that. But get into some business, you know, like
other women. A bonnet shop, or a candy shop for children, see? I'll
help start you. I've got a couple of hundred, if not in my own pocket
in somebody's else, just burning to be used! And then you can look about
you; and perhaps some square business man will turn up and you can marry
him. You know you can't live this way, nohow. It's killing you; it ain't
fair on you, nor on Rylands either."

"No," she said quickly, "it ain't fair on HIM. I know it, I know it
isn't, I know it isn't," she repeated, "only"--She stopped.

"Only what?" said Jack impatiently.

She did not speak. After a pause she picked up the rolling-pin from
the table and began absently rolling it down her lap to her knee, as
if pressing out the stained silk skirt. "Only," she stammered, slowly
rolling the pin handles in her open palms, "I--I can't leave Josh."

"Why can't you?" said Jack quickly.

"Because--because--I," she went on, with a quivering lip, working the
rolling-pin heavily down her knee as if she were crushing her answer out
of it,--"because--I--love him!"

There was a pause, a dash of rain against the window, and another dash
from her eyes upon her hands, the rolling-pin,