r finger; she held it towards him on an open
palm. Her lips twisted in a painful effort at a smile. "You wanted to
have it a year ago, and I refused. I must have seemed very bold. I
have often wondered since how I could have brought myself to do it. I
was thinking of myself, of course. I don't deny it. I could not bear
to give you up, and I hated the thought of the gossip, and the sympathy,
and the staring eyes. It hurt my pride to think of being jilted, when
I'd been so proud... But most of all--_most_ of all, I thought of you!
Dane! tell me one thing! It would help me to know... Has it been any
help having my letters this year? Did being engaged to me--as much as
we were engaged--make things better or worse? Were you one little scrap
less lonely because I cared?"

Dane had refused to take the ring. It was still lying on Teresa's palm.
He stood over her, very pale, very drawn, his eyes gazing unfalteringly
into her own.

"Teresa, you have saved me! If it had not been for you I should have
taken my life. You have been an angel of patience. It has been your
sweetness which saved me from despair. I have taken everything from you
in my own trouble, and now, when I am cured, when you have cured me, you
want me no more! What about those reasons that influenced you last
year? Don't they still exist? Have you grown tired of me, Teresa?"

She shook her head, refusing to reply.

"God knows it would be no wonder if you had; not one girl in a thousand
would have had your forbearance. And--those other reasons? Have you
outgrown your fear of what people may say?"

"No, I haven't. I'm afraid I never shall. But,--it's over, you see,"
Teresa said quickly. "It _has_ happened. A whole year has passed,
Dane, and you have never once been to see me. Chumley has been sorry
for me for months; it _expects_ me to be jilted. You need not worry
about my sufferings in that respect. The worst is over... Besides, I
have no intention of staying in Chumley."

Dane muttered a furious word, controlled himself, and put another
question.

"What exactly is your intention, Teresa?"

"I shall take up some work. Girls always say that, and people laugh. I
don't mind if they do. They won't laugh long. I shall succeed. I am
the sort of person who does succeed. I like work, and I like to do it
well... For two or three years I shall work hard,--so hard that I shall
have no time to think..."

She stopped, leaving the