smiss the gardener!" pronounced Grizel briskly, and
once again a dangerous moment had come, and gone. She cowered over the
fire, holding out her hands, hitching her shoulders to her ears. Her
nose was still red; if Katrine had been present she would have told
herself that no man could possibly admire a woman with a red nose, but
Martin had not so much as noticed the fact, and if he had, would have
felt it to be a wonderful and beautiful thing that Grizel's nose could
be red, like that of an ordinary mortal. It would have appeared to him
the most endearing of traits.

"I wonder," he said thoughtfully. "I wonder Grizel, how you would stand
poverty! Comparative poverty, I mean, of course. You have never
realised the meaning of money. You have wanted a thing, and it has been
yours. You have not adapted yourself to circumstances, circumstances
have been made to adapt themselves to _you_. It is the fashion to decry
the power of riches, but in the case of a woman like yourself, young,
and strong, and beautiful, and sane, it is folly to pretend that they
are not a valuable asset. You have been happy--"

"Yes!" assented Grizel thoughtfully. "Yes!" She stared into the fire,
her small face very grave. "I like money; so much money that one need
not have the thought of it always before one. It would seem to me
debasing to be always considering costs, planning and contriving. It
would hold one's thoughts down. And I have never felt burdened by
responsibility. That's what they say, you know,--the dear, serious
folks,--they call wealth a burden and responsibility, but I've loved to
be able to give and to help. I've my own little way about giving..."
(The listener smiled. When had Grizel _not_ her own way!) "The public
charities must be supported, of course, that's mechanical; a mere
signing of cheques, but the interesting part is to get hold of private
cases, and see them through! Will you be shocked, Martin, when I tell
you that my particular _forte_ is helping people who have failed
through--_their own fault_! Not misfortune, but drink, gambling, other
things, of which they might have kept free, but--didn't! It's a kind
old world; every one is ready to help the unfortunate, but when a man
has had a chance, and thrown it away, when it's `nobody's fault but his
own,' _then_," she shrugged her slight shoulders, "he goes into outer
darkness! People have `enough to do' helping those who `deserve it,'
and so I do th