ere accidents to other
women were absolute necessities to her. With a longing that almost
amounted to a passion, she craved jewels, good gowns, laces and all
the other dear, delightful pomps and vanities of this world, which
only a plethoric purse can procure.

She reveled in the violets and orchids which, so sure as the day
dawned, came down from the Thornton conservatories for the greater
adornment of the house of Warren.

The rides in the fastest machines in the county, the cross-country
runs on Mr. James Thornton's thoroughbred hunters, all these were as
meat and drink to her.

Yes, Mr. James Thornton's offer was certainly tempting. It meant that
everything in the world for which she most cared would be hers
except--but that was singularly out-of-date. Nobody really married for
that any more. To be sure, her sisters had, but she could not see that
they were glaringly happy. And Mr. James Thornton was a good
soul--everybody admitted that. And yet--for an instant the gray stone
building in the distance, bathed in the golden radiance of the setting
sun, grew misty and blurred. She saw another sunset, all pink and
green and soft, indefinite violet, and above the deep, sweet,
ceaseless sound of a wondrously opalescent sea she heard a man's voice
ring clear and true with a love as eternal as that same changeless
sea. She felt again that strange, sweet, unearthly happiness that
comes to a woman once and once only. She buried her face in her hands
to shut out the sight of that gray stone house on the hill, bathed in
the significant, mocking, golden radiance of the setting sun. She
heard again that man's voice, crushed and broken with a dull, hopeless
despair. She saw his face grow pale as death as he heard her words of
cruel, worldly wisdom. She felt again that same bitter ache at the
heart, that horrible, gnawing sense of irreparable loss, as she had
voluntarily put out of her life "the only good in the world."

"But we were too poor," she cried, passionately, jumping to her feet
and throwing her head back defiantly. "It would have been madness--for
me." She looked out of the window again at the gray stone house on the
hill, and laughed mirthlessly.

Then she walked slowly away from the window, and stood irresolute for
a moment, in the center of the room.

"This horrid, beastly poverty!" she burst out vehemently. "I'm sick of
it all--of our wretched, miserable makeshifts. I'm tired, so tired, of
everything. It will