You must allow yourself to be somewhat self-indulgent as
regards health. There will be other matters which will demand all your
courage and self-denial..."

The girl did not speak, but her eyelashes flickered nervously over her
dilated eyes. The doctor looked down at the tips of those tapping
fingers.

"Marriage," he said slowly--"Marriage is not for you. It is better that
you should face that fact at once. Such a family history as the one you
have just related is a standing evidence of selfishness and cruelty.
Your parents, your grandparents, outraged a great moral law, and you and
others are here to pay the price. You must not follow their example.
This handing on of disease must come to an end. You may think that in
the case of your possible marriage there might not be children; I will
not discuss that point to-day--it is not needful. You are my patient,
and you yourself would run a more serious risk of developing the malady
as a wife. Even the happiest of married lives has responsibilities,
anxieties, physical and mental strains, which might easily prove too
much for your mental balance. It would not be fair to a man to bring
that dread into his life. Marriage for you would be a cruel and
cowardly act. For the man's sake, for your own sake, you must put the
idea out of your life."

There was a moment's silence in the room, then the girl spoke in a low,
faint voice:

"Thank you!" she said softly. With a hand that moved in mechanical
fashion she took a little paper packet from her muff, laid it down on
the corner of the desk, and rose to her feet.

"One moment!" cried the doctor hastily. In that room, seated in that
chair, it had been his lot to speak many sentences of death, but he had
not yet hardened himself to maim a life unmoved. Having dealt his blow,
he was anxious to speak a word of comfort to the girl who had said
"Thank you," in that quiet voice. His keen, hawk-like face wrinkled
into a network of lines as he looked at her across the room.

"One moment! What I have said may appear hard; but before you allow
yourself to grieve at a possible sorrow, look around at the women whom
you know--married and unmarried--compare their lives, make what you can
out of the contrast. There is a large, an increasing number of
unmarried women who consider that their own is the fuller and easier
lot; they refuse to give up their liberty to become what is called the
`slave of a household.' There are s