panion, they were walking along one of the country ways,
'don't you think June is a good month to get married in?'

'Frank dear,' she said, 'I haven't had much experience.'

'Now, look here, Nan,' he said--the others were a long way ahead, and
he could scold her as he liked. 'You may have some strong
points--wisdom, perhaps--and a capacity for extracting money out of
people for lifeboats--and a knack of boxing the ears of small boys whom
you find shying stones at sparrows--I say you may have your strong
points; but flippancy isn't one of them. And this is a very serious
matter.'

'I know it is,' said Nan, demurely. 'And far more serious than you
imagine. For, do you know, Frank, that the moment I get married I
shall cease to be responsible for the direction of my own life
altogether. You alone will be responsible. Whatever you say I should
do, I will do; what you say I must think, or believe, or try for, that
will be my guide. Don't you know that I have been trying all my life
to get rid of the responsibility of deciding for myself? I nearly
ended--like such a lot of people!--in "going over to the Church." Oh,
Frank,' she said, 'I think if it hadn't been for you I should have
married a clergyman, and been good.'

She laughed a little, soft, low laugh; and continued:

'No, I think that never could have happened. But I should have done
something--gone into one of those visiting sisterhoods, or got trained
as a nurse--you don't know what a good hospital nurse you spoiled in
me. However, now that is not my business. Undine got a soul when she
married; I give up mine. I shall efface myself. It's you who have to
tell me what to think, and believe, and try to do.'

'Very well,' said he. 'I shall begin by advising you to give up
cultivating the acquaintance of tinkers and gipsies; and first of all
to resolve not to speak again to Singing Sal.'

'Oh, but that's foolish--that is unnecessary!' she said, with a stare;
and he burst out laughing.

'Here we are at the outset!' he said. 'But don't you think, Nan-nie,
you might let things go on as they are? You haven't done so badly
after all. Do you know that people don't altogether detest you? Some
of them would even say that you made the world a little brighter and
pleasanter for those around you; and that is always something.'

'But it's so little,' said Nan. 'And--and I had thought of--of I don't
know what, I believe--in that Cathedral at Lucerne--and