t because I am stronger than you, and have stronger passions,
I take that advantage--try to overcome, as I may, the womanly
resistance which is one of your charms.

'How useless, then, for us to talk. If you are determined to remind me
again and again that your strength puts me at your mercy--'

'Oh, not that! I will come no nearer to you. Sit down, and tell me what
I asked.'

Rhoda hesitated, but at length took the chair by which she was standing.

'You are resolved never to marry?'

'I never shall,' Rhoda replied firmly.

'But suppose marriage in no way interfered with your work?'

'It would interfere hopelessly with the best part of my life. I thought
you understood this. What would become of the encouragement I am able
to offer our girls?'

'Encouragement to refuse marriage?'

'To scorn the old idea that a woman's life is wasted if she does not
marry. My work is to help those women who, by sheer necessity, must
live alone--woman whom vulgar opinion ridicules. How can I help them so
effectually as by living among them, one of them, and showing that my
life is anything but weariness and lamentation? I am fitted for this.
It gives me a sense of power and usefulness which I enjoy. Your cousin
is doing the same work admirably. If I deserted I should despise
myself.'

'Magnificent! If I could bear the thought of living without you, I
should bid you persevere and be great.'

'I need no such bidding to persevere.'

'And for that very reason, because you are capable of such things, I
love you only the more.'

There was triumph in her look, though she endeavoured to disguise it.

'Then, for your own peace,' she said, 'I must hope that you will avoid
me. It is so easily done. We have nothing in common, Mr. Barfoot.'

'I can't agree with that. For one thing, there are perhaps not half a
dozen women living with whom I could talk as I have talked with you. It
isn't likely that I shall ever meet one. Am I to make my bow, and
abandon in resignation the one chance of perfecting my life?'

'You don't know me. We differ profoundly on a thousand essential
points.'

'You think so because you have a very wrong idea of me.'

Rhoda glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.

'Mr. Barfoot,' she said in a changed voice, 'you will forgive me if I
remind you that it is past ten o'clock.'

He sighed and rose.

'The fog certainly cannot be so thick now. Shall I ask them to try and
get you a cab?'

'I shall walk to the