her time. She knew herself better than most girls of nineteen, but it
was her reason that had informed her, not her feelings. In her
sheltered life, her heart had never been ruffled except by rare fits of
passion--"tantrums" old Nicholas Treffry dubbed them--at what seemed to
her mean or unjust.

"If I were a man," she said, "and going to be great, I should have
wanted to begin at the very bottom as you did."

"Yes," said Harz quickly, "one should be able to feel everything."

She did not notice how simply he assumed that he was going to be great.
He went on, a smile twisting his mouth unpleasantly beneath its dark
moustache--"Not many people think like you! It's a crime not to have
been born a gentleman."

"That's a sneer," said Christian; "I didn't think you would have
sneered!"

"It is true. What is the use of pretending that it isn't?"

"It may be true, but it is finer not to say it!"

"By Heavens!" said Harz, striking one hand into the other, "if more
truth were spoken there would not be so many shams."

Christian looked down at him from her seat on the stile.

"You are right all the same, Fraulein Christian," he added suddenly;
"that's a very little business. Work is what matters, and trying to see