eserved on all subjects, and we
have never spoken of this, but of course I know that your thought is
never commonplace. Hold what view you like of woman's position, that
doesn't affect mine.'

'Is yours commonplace, then?'

'Desperately. Love is a very old and common thing, and I believe I love
you in the old and common way. I think you beautiful, you seem to me
womanly in the best sense, full of charm and sweetness. I know myself a
coarse being in comparison. All this has been felt and said in the same
way by men infinite in variety. Must I find some new expression before
you can believe me?'

Marian kept silence.

'I know what you are thinking,' he said. 'The thought is as inevitable
as my consciousness of it.'

For an instant she looked at him.

'Yes, you look the thought. Why have I not spoken to you in this
way before? Why have I waited until you are obliged to suspect my
sincerity?'

'My thought is not so easily read, then,' said Marian.

'To be sure it hasn't a gross form, but I know you wish--whatever your
real feeling towards me--that I had spoken a fortnight ago. You would
wish that of any man in my position, merely because it is painful to you
to see a possible insincerity. Well, I am not insincere. I have thought
of you as of no other woman for some time. But--yes, you shall have the
plain, coarse truth, which is good in its way, no doubt. I was afraid to
say that I loved you. You don't flinch; so far, so good. Now what harm
is there in this confession? In the common course of things I shouldn't
be in a position to marry for perhaps three or four years, and even then
marriage would mean difficulties, restraints, obstacles. I have always
dreaded the thought of marriage with a poor income. You remember?

Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is--Love forgive us!--cinders,
ashes, dust.

You know that is true.'

'Not always, I dare say.'

'But for the vast majority of mortals. There's the instance of the
Reardons. They were in love with each other, if ever two people were;
but poverty ruined everything. I am not in the confidence of either of
them, but I feel sure each has wished the other dead. What else was
to be expected? Should I have dared to take a wife in my present
circumstances--a wife as poor as myself?'

'You will be in a much better position before long,' said Marian.
'If you loved me, why should you have been afraid to ask me to have
confidence in your future?'

'It's all so unc