ed," she said, "to try to do something in the
world. I daresay I should have failed, for I know that very few women
meet with a success which is worth having. But still I should have
liked to try, for I am not afraid of work. But the current of my life
is against it; the only thing that is open to me is to strive and make
both ends meet upon an income which is always growing smaller, and to
save my father, poor dear, from as much worry as I can.

"Don't think that I am complaining," she went on hurriedly, "or that I
want to rush into pleasure-seeking, because I do not--a little of that
goes a long way with me. Besides, I know that I have many things to be
thankful for. Few women have such a kind father as mine, though we do
quarrel at times. Of course we cannot have everything our own way in
this world, and I daresay that I do not make the best of things.
Still, at times it does seem a little hard that I should be forced to
lead such a narrow life, just when I feel that I could work in a wide
one."

Harold looked up at her face and saw that a tear was gathering in her
dark eyes and in his heart he registered a vow that if by any means it
ever lay within his power to improve her lot he would give everything
he had to do it. But all he said was:

"Don't be downhearted, Miss de la Molle. Things change in a wonderful
way, and often they mend when they look worst. You know," he went on a
little nervously, "I am an old-fashioned sort of individual, and I
believe in Providence and all that sort of thing, you see, and that
matters generally come pretty well straight in the long run if people
deserve it."

Ida shook her head a little doubtfully and sighed.

"Perhaps," she said, "but I suppose that we do not deserve it. Anyhow,
our good fortune is a long while coming," and the conversation
dropped.

Still her friend's strong belief in the efficacy of Providence, and
generally his masculine sturdiness, did cheer her up considerably.
Even the strongest women, if they have any element that can be called
feminine left in them, want somebody of the other sex to lean on, and
she was no exception to the rule. Besides, if Ida's society had charms
for Colonel Quaritch, his society had almost if not quite as much
charm for her. It may be remembered that on the night when they first
met she had spoken to herself of him as the kind of man whom she would
like to marry. The thought was a passing one, and it may be safely
said that she