'What the deuce has come to you, Jessie?'

'You--you--speak very unkindly to me,' she sobbed.

'Speak unkindly? I didn't know it. What did I say?'

'You won't believe when I say I'm sorry you feel lonely.'

'Why, confound it, I'll believe as much as you like, if it comes to
that. Put that handkerchief away, and drink another glass of wine.'

She stood up, and went to lean on the mantelpiece, hiding her face. When
he was near her again, she continued her complaints in a low voice.

'It's so miserable at home. They want me to be a teacher, and how can I?
I never pretended to be clever, and if I'd all the lessons under the
sun, I should never be able to teach French--and--arithmetic--and those
things. But I wish I could; then I should get away from home, and see
new people. There's nobody I care to see in Dunfield--nobody but one--'

She stopped on a sob.

'Who's that?' Dagworthy asked, looking at her with a singular
expression, from head to foot.

She made no answer, but sobbed again.

'What Christmas presents have you had?' was his next question,
irrelevant enough apparently.

'Oh, none--none to speak of--a few little things. What do I care for
presents? You can't live on presents.'

'Can't live on them? Are things bad at home?'

'I didn't mean that. But of course they're bad; they're always bad
nowadays. However, Barbara's going to be married in a week; she'll be
one out of the way. And of course I haven't a dress fit to be seen in
for the wedding.'

'Why then, get a dress. How much will it cost?' He went to a
writing-table, unlocked a drawer, and took out a cheque-book. 'Now
then,' he said, half jestingly, half in earnest, 'what is it to be?
Anything you like to say--I'll write it.'

'As if I wanted money!'

'I can give you that. I don't see what else I can do. It isn't to be
despised.'

'No, you can do nothing else,' she said, pressing each cheek with her
handkerchief before putting it away. 'Will you help me on with my cloak,
Mr. Dagworthy?'

He took it from the chair, and held it for her. Jessie, as if by
accident, approached her face to his hand, and, before he saw her
purpose, kissed his hard fingers. Then she turned away, hiding her face.

Dagworthy dropped the garment, and stood looking at her. He had a half
contemptuous smile on his lips. At this moment it was announced that the
carriage was coming round. Jessie caught at her cloak, and threw it over
her shoulders. Then, with sunk head,