as once cared for me can ever
care for another woman." Several of her confidantes had precisely the
same modest opinion of their own powers; but they laughed at
Theresa--behind her back.

Ross knew how vain she was. To break with her, he would have to tell her
flatly that he would not marry her. "I'd be doing her no injury," thought
he. "Her vanity would root out some explanation which would satisfy her
that, whatever might be the cause, it wasn't lack of love for her on my
part." But--To break off was unthinkable. The invitations out; the
arrangements for the wedding all made; quantities of presents
arrived--"I've got to go through with it. I've got to marry her," said
Ross. "But God help me, how I shall hate her!"

And, stripped clean of the glamour of her wealth, she rose before
him--her nose that was red and queer in the mornings; her little personal
habits that got on the nerves, especially a covert self-infatuated smile
that flitted over her face at any compliment, however obviously
perfunctory; her way of talking about every trivial thing she did--and
what did she do that was not trivial?--as if some diarist ought to take
it down for the delight of ages to come. As Ross looked at the
new-created realistic image of her, he was amazed. "Why, I've always
disliked her!" he cried. "I've been lying to myself. I am too low for
words," he groaned. "Was there ever such a sneaking cur?" Yes, many a
one, full as unconscious of his own qualities as he himself had been
until that moment; nor could he find consolation in the fact that he had
company, plenty of company, and it of the world's most "gentlemanly" and
most "ladylike."

The young man who left that wood, the young man whom Arthur saw that day,
had in his heart a consciousness, an ache, of lonely poverty that dress
and dogcarts and social position could do little--something, but
little--to ease.

* * * * *

He stopped at Chicago and sent word to Windrift that he was ill--not
seriously ill, but in such a state that he thought it best to take care
of himself, with the wedding so near. Theresa was just as well pleased
to have him away, as it gave her absolute freedom to plan and to
superintend her triumph. For the wedding was to be her individual and
exclusive triumph, with even Ross as part of the background--the most
conspicuous part, but still simply background for her personal splendor.

Old Howland--called Bill until his early c