s well. She liked
him, liked him better than any other man she had ever known. But she
knew that she could not marry him, and believed in her heart that her
reasons for refusing him were just reasons. But she remained silent,
true to her decision.

When Stephen spoke again it was not to plead with her; he seemed at last
to have accepted her refusal for all time. But he asked her reason for
absolutely refusing him--not that it mattered much now, since he faced
the inevitable, but thought the knowledge might in future guide and
strengthen him. He talked rapidly, hinting at beliefs and idolatries,
comparing West with East, and East with West, while he stood motionless,
one hand upon the fence--earnest, sincere, strong in his request. When
he had uttered his last sad word, Helen found herself, as she searched
his drawn profile pityingly, no more able to deny him an answer than at
the time of their first chance meeting she could have controlled the
fate which had brought it about.

"Stephen," she burst out, "I will tell you--though I don't want to tell
you--remember! And if in the telling," she hurried on, "I prove rather
too candid--please stop me! You will, won't you?"

He nodded listlessly.

"To begin with," she began, quietly, dreading her task, "we as a people
are selfish. We are isolated here--are far from the center of
things--but only certain things. We are quite our own center in certain
other ways. But we are selfish as regards advancement, and being selfish
in this way--being what we are and where we are--we live solely for that
advancement--for the privilege of doing what we will, and of knowing! It
is the first law of the country down here--of my people! We have aims
and aspirations and courage all peculiar to ourselves. And when we meet
your type, as I met you, we come--(Now, stop me when I get too
severe!)--we come to know our own values a little better--to respect
ourselves, perhaps--though perhaps, too, I shouldn't say it--a little
more. Not that you lack virtues, you Easterners, but they differ from
ours--and probably only in kind. And exactly what your type is you
yourself have made plain to me during our many little trips together in
the saddle. And--and now I fear I must become even more personal," she
broke off. "And I am very sorry that I must. Though I know you will
forgive me. You will, won't you?" And she looked up at him wistfully.
"You thought it might benefit you to know. This is only my opin