. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. She must learn wisdom—as God pleases. He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of his tie and hair were almost rakish. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. Bah. Do you think she does?” Ann Veronica picked among her salad with a judicial expression of face. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. Without a single ornament about her neck, or hair, wearing the plainest of black gowns, out of which her shoulders shone gleaming white, she was easily the most noticeable and the most distinguished-looking woman in the room. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. “I’ll go,” he said, “but I warn you that I shall find you out.
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