ugh of liking. It looked like a black
ingratitude to leave him. It was what it looked like--neither more nor
less. But, then, Claudia, Claudia, Claudia! How could he live without
Claudia?

He looked at things all round. He had a fixed position, which was so
excellent that he could not hope to mend it for years to come if he left
it now. He had a true friend whose friendship he might lose if he left
him now. He had perhaps an open avenue to fame, and it would close if
he retired from it, and might never open any more. All these things he
counted clearly, and reckoned the world well lost for Claudia.

The afternoon work was over, the pay-sheet initialled from top to
bottom, the accounts made up and balanced, and the change and papers
locked up in Darco's cash-box. He was free to go to Claudia.

A fly carried him in ten minutes to her door, and she herself admitted
him.

'Come in, Paul,' she said 'I have been thinking, and I want to speak
to you very, very seriously.' She led him into her sitting-room.
'Miss Pounceby is out for the day, so that we shall have time to talk
together.' Miss Pounceby was the _ingenue_, and she and Claudia lived
together. 'Sit down, dear, and let me see if I can't bring you to
reason.'

'You can't persuade me to lose you, Claudia,' said Paul gloomily. 'It
isn't to be done; it isn't to be thought about.'

'Silly boy!' said Claudia, seating herself beside him, and taking his
hand in both of hers, 'you know I love you like a sister.'

'I don't want a sister's love,' said Paul. 'I want you to marry me.'

'Why, Paul,' she answered, 'the world would laugh at me. You are only
just one-and-twenty; I am four years older. That is ages, you know, and
it is ages on the wrong side.'

'Why should we care about the world?' Paul asked. 'What has the world to
do with us so long as we can be happy?'

'But I don't love you in that way, Paul,' said Claudia. She leaned
forward and sideways, and looked gravely in his eyes. 'I love you very
much, dear Paul--very, very much indeed--and I shall be grieved to lose
you.'

'I shan't lose you,' said Paul. 'I have made my mind up.'

'You dear boy!' she said, and kissed him; but when he would have
embraced her she drew back with a warning forefinger upraised. 'You must
not presume upon my kindness, Paul; but I know that I can trust you.
I should not have asked you to meet me here if I had not been sure of
that.'

'Claudia,' cried Paul, rising and pacing about