I have seen him. I am in doubt whether
I shall be able to go on with the work he and I had arranged.

She signed this "Susan Lenox" and dispatched it. At once she
felt better in spite of the fact that she had, with
characteristic and fatal folly, her good sense warned her, cut
herself off from all the income in sight or in prospect. She
had debated sending back the check, but had decided that if
she did she might give the impression of pique or anger. No,
she would give him every chance to withdraw from a bargain
with which he was not content; and he would get the idea that
it was she who was ending the arrangement, would therefore
feel no sense of responsibility for her. She would save her
pride; she would spare his feelings. She was taking counsel
of Burlingham these days--was recalling the lesson he had
taught her, was getting his aid in deciding her course.
Burlingham protested vehemently against this sending back of
the check; but she let her pride, her aversion to being an
object of pity, overrule him.

A few days more, and she was so desperate, so harassed that
she altogether lost confidence in her own judgment. While
outwardly she seemed to be the same as always with Rod, she
had a feeling of utter alienation. Still, there was no one
else to whom she could turn. Should she put the facts before
him and ask his opinion? Her intelligence said no; her heart
said perhaps. While she was hesitating, he decided for her.
One morning at breakfast he stopped talking about himself long
enough to ask carelessly:

"About you and Brent--he's gone away. What are you doing?"

"Nothing," said she.

"Going to take that business up again, when he comes back?"

"I don't know."

"I wouldn't count on it, if I were you. . . . You're so
sensitive that I've hesitated to say anything. But I think
that chap was looking for trouble, and when he found you were
already engaged, why, he made up his mind to drop it."

"Do you think so?" said Susan indifferently. "More coffee?"

"Yes--a little. If my play's as good as your coffee----
That's enough, thanks. . . . Do you still draw your--your----"

His tone as he cast about for a fit word made her flush
scarlet. "No--I stopped it until we begin work again."

He did not conceal his thorough satisfaction. "That's right!"
he cried. "The only cloud on our happiness is gone. You
know, a man doesn't like that sort of thing."

"I know," said Susan drily.

And sh