her breath. She didn't feel as if she could
stand much more of this.

"Everything!" he said bitterly. "No, I haven't. I can't give you what
every girl wants--a well, strong man to be her husband--the health and
strength that any man in the street has."

"Oh, don't speak that way, Allan!"

She bent over him sympathetically, moved by his words. In another moment
the misunderstanding might have been straightened out, if it had not
been for his reply.

"I wish I never had to see you at all!" he said involuntarily. In her
sensitive state of mind the hurt was all she felt--not the deeper
meaning that lay behind the words.

"I'll relieve you of my presence for awhile," she flashed back. Before
she gave herself time to think, she had left the garden, with something
which might be called a flounce. "When people say things like that to
you," she said as she walked away from him, "it's carrying being an
invalid a little _too_ far!"

Allan heard the side-door slam. He had never suspected before that
Phyllis had a temper. And yet, what could he have said? But she gave him
no opportunity to find out. In just about the time it might take to
find gloves and a parasol, another door clanged in the distance. The
street door. Phyllis had evidently gone out.

* * * * *

Phyllis, on her swift way down the street, grew angrier and angrier. She
tried to persuade herself to make allowances for Allan, but they refused
to be made. She felt more bitterly toward him than she ever had toward
any one in her life. If she only hadn't leaned over him and been sorry
for him, just before she got a slap in the face like that!

She walked rapidly down the main street of the little village. She
hardly knew where she was going. She had been called on by most of the
local people, but she did not feel like being agreeable, or making
formal calls, just now. And what was the use of making friends, any way,
when she was going back to her rags, poor little Cinderella that she
was! Below and around and above everything else came the stinging
thought that she had given Allan so much--that she had taken so much for
granted.

Her quick steps finally took her to the outskirts of the village, to a
little green stretch of woods. There she walked up and down for awhile,
trying to think more quietly. She found the tide of her anger ebbing
suddenly, and her mind forming all sorts of excuses for Allan. But that
was not the way to ge