He breaks away from her, frowning still.

It is quite plain to her that she has offended him. But even as he
leaves her he looks back; a sort of grim smile illumines his face.

"I note that in your 'hoping' you have put Miss Bolton before me;
that is as it should be. She is a sworn admirer of yours. Did you
know it?"

"No. But she appeals to me--I don't know why--but I feel that I
could love her," says Margaret, in short sentences as if thinking,
and as if a little surprised at herself. Suddenly she breaks into a
more immediate feeling. "Oh, Maurice, love her too! Try, _try_ to
love her; she is so young. Her very _soul_ is in your keeping. Be
good to her; she is a mere baby. If you neglect her, forget her----"

Maurice casts a queer look at her.

"'Is thy servant a dog?'" quotes he.



* * * * *



Margaret moves slowly away. She had, when Maurice met her, been bent
on going upstairs to her books and her thoughts; but now she turns
backward. She feels as if she wants something. Perhaps she finds