w some one who had altered him out of all
knowledge.

"Come," said she, "don't say you never change."

"I don't say it. You'll have to allow for that possibility, too."

"It seems to me I have to allow for a good many things."

"You have indeed."

"Well, are we going to sit here all night?"

"I'm ready."

They walked back in silence over the straight path that seemed as if
it would never end. Flossie stopped half-way in it, stung by an idea.

"There's something you haven't thought of. What are you going to do
with the house? And with all that furniture?"

"Let them to somebody. That's all right, Beaver. The house and the
furniture can't run away."

"No, but they'll never be the same again."

Nothing would ever be the same again; that was clear. The flowers were
still gay in the Broad Walk, and the children, though a little
sleepier, were still adorable; but Flossie did not turn to look at
them as she passed. Would she ever look at them, at anything, with
pleasure again? He had made life very difficult, very cruel to this
poor child, whom after all he had promised to protect and care for.

"I say, Beaver dear, it _is_ hard luck on you."

The look and the tone would have softened most women, at least for the
time being; but the Beaver remained implacable.

"I'll try to make it easier for you. I'll work like mad. I'll do
anything to shorten the time."

"Shorten the time? You don't know how many years you're asking me to
wait."

"I'm not asking you to wait. I'm asking you to choose."

"Do you want me to do it now?"

"No, certainly not." She was not indeed in a mood favourable to
choice; and he would not influence her decision. It was mean to urge
her to an arduous constancy; meaner still to precipitate her refusal.
"You must think. You can, you know, when you give your mind to it."

She appeared to be giving her mind to it for the rest of the way home;
and her silence left him also free to think it over. After all, what
had he done? He had not asked her to wait, but what if he had? Many
men have to ask as much of the woman who loves them. Some men have
asked even more of the woman whom they love. That was the secret. He
could have asked it with a clear conscience if he had but loved her.

CHAPTER LXIV

Flossie was in no hurry about making up her mind. If Keith had asked
her to give him time, it was only fair that he should give her time
too, and since his mind was made up in any case, time