kicking a pebble. He had come hot-foot
to claim her, never anticipating a check; and now she seemed to be
somehow drifting farther and farther away from him.

"I don't know if you are still thinking about the money Laura lent me,"
he said at last. "I begin to wish now I hadn't told you. But I wanted
to have everything quite straight." He paused. "As a matter of fact,
I have paid it back. The bank was a bit awkward at first, but I was
able to come to an arrangement with them a day or two ago, and I have
repaid Laura what she lent me." He paused again, looking at her almost
comically: "There, I hope you quite understand?"

They were indeed talking to each other more like enemies than lovers;
and Caroline seemed to be more than ever withdrawn and aloof--for all
her ignorance and simplicity of feeling--when she answered him in an
inward brooding tone: "Yes, I understand." For she really saw neither
Godfrey nor the shore, only Laura coming flushed out of the door marked
"Private" behind the bank counter. For now--at last--she did see where
it all led. She had to join issue with Laura to spare the pride of
this man whom both loved. His faith in his own power of overcoming
difficulties was the foundation on which his life was built, and they
must not pull it from under him. She, at any rate, could not so
humiliate him.

"The difficulty was only temporary," he went on, trying to find out
what she was waiting for. "I tried to do too much business for my
capital. But I'm bound to get on. We shall be all right."

"Don't!" she said sharply. "I don't care about money. I wasn't
thinking about that."

"Then what's the matter?"

She looked at him dumbly, and something in her tear-stained face tugged
irresistibly at his heartstrings. "Don't look like that," he said.
"Let's forget all that has happened before. You don't mean you will
turn me down, too?"

She shook her head, still unable to keep back the tears.

"Then why are you crying?" he said, putting his arm round her.
"There's nothing to cry for, Carrie." He spoke to her soothingly,
tenderly, as a man might to a child who was in trouble.

"Oh, Godfrey!" She drew herself away from him once more. "I aren't
half as good as her. I aren't half as good as her. You'd have been a
great deal happier and more comfortable with her."

"I know that," he said. "But I don't want to be happy and comfortable.
I want to live." He caught hold of her hand, which h