t it strike you, Mr. Rolfe,
that we're in a strange position towards each other? You know very
little of me--very little indeed, I'm sure. And of you, when I come to
think of it, all I really know is that you hardly care at all for what
has always been my one great interest.'

'That is putting it in a matter-of-fact way--or you think so. I see
things rather differently. In one sense, I care very much indeed for
everything that really makes a part of your life. And simply because I
care very much about you yourself. I don't know you; who knows any
other human being? But I have formed an idea of you, and an idea that
has great power over my thoughts, wishes, purposes--everything. It has
made me say what I thought I should never say to any woman--and makes
me feel glad that I have said it, and full of hope.'

Alma drew in her breath and smiled faintly. Still she did not look at
him.

'And of course I have formed an idea of you.'

'Will you sketch the outline and let me correct it?'

'You think I am pretty sure to be wrong?' she asked, raising her eyes
and regarding him for a moment with anxiety.

'I should have said "complete" it. I hope I have never shown myself to
you in an altogether false light.'

'That is the one thing I have felt sure about,' said Alma, slowly and
thoughtfully. 'You have always seemed the same. You don't change with
circumstances--as people generally do.'

Harvey had a word on his lips, but checked it, and merely gazed at her
till her eyes again encountered his. Then Alma smiled more naturally.

'There was something you didn't speak of in your letter. What kind of
life do you look forward to?'

'I'm not sure that I understand. My practical aims--you mean?'

'Yes,' she faltered, with embarrassment.

'Why, I'm afraid I have none. I mentioned the facts of my position, and
I said that I couldn't hope for its improvement----'

'No, no, no! You misunderstand me. I am not thinking about money. I
hate the word, and wish I might never hear it again!' She spoke with
impetuosity. 'I meant--how and where do you wish to live? What thoughts
had you about the future?'

'None very definite, I confess. And chiefly because, if what I desired
came to pass, I thought of everything as depending upon you. I have no
place in the world. I have no relatives nearer than cousins. Of late
years I have been growing rather bookish, and rather fond of
quietness--but of course that resulted from circumstances. When