people shouldn't keep more than just enough money to live on. It's
a part of his system, as he calls it, I know; and if he says that human
nature would be better with less, I am not the one to gainsay him, for
there's no young man of his years in the city smarter than Mr. Spence,
and he may be right. I can say, though, that before this it has stood in
the way of his marrying. Only two years ago there was a young lady from
New York just crazy to get him. She was real elegant too, and folks say
he fancied her. But she was very rich, just as you are; and she wasn't
willing--and I don't blame her either--to give up every blessed cent
because he wanted her to. But he is bent on carrying his principles of
moderation into daily practice, and there's no use in resisting him.
It's rare he takes a liking so strong as he took to you to-night, and
perhaps it was best for both of you that the truth came out when it
did."

"Very much," I answered in a dazed tone.

Mrs. Marsh's confidences had mystified me more than ever. Of course I
could no longer doubt Miss Kingsley's jealousy; but it was not equally
apparent to me why Mr. Spence should have felt obliged to change his
behavior so precipitately because of my wealth. Surely he could tolerate
even if he did not advocate the possession of riches. I was young, and
had much to learn. It was possible that when I came to hear his
arguments, I might be convinced and ready to sacrifice my prospects of a
large income to the demands of a noble philosophy. If it were a question
of marriage, I could readily understand his insisting that his bride
should comply with his views in this respect. But I was merely a guest
of Miss Kingsley, an acquaintance whom he might never see again. His
conduct seemed to me irrational and strange. I could not believe that he
had cast me off because of an unwillingness to offend his hostess, for
he had appeared wholly absorbed in my presence until her impertinent
speech in regard to my property had put an abrupt end to his
complaisance.

Meanwhile Mr. Barr had finished his paean and seated himself near me.
There was no mistaking the glances he cast, and out of respect to
myself I chose to exhibit some coldness of manner in response to his
remarks, which were an ardent defence of passion and what he called
_verve_ in music, literature, and art. Keen enjoyment, he said, was
never to be found in restraint; and if extremes tended to shorten human
life, a short exist