y in her out to the full. Far better
that the best that was in her should out and shine than be battened under
hatches and kept out of sight. Better for herself, if it was her nature;
and better for the rest of us who could look up and admire. For myself, I
would sooner look up than down, and none knew as I did--unless it were
Jeanne Falla--how sweet and generous a nature lay behind the graces that
set her above us. For none had known her as I had, during all those years
of the camaraderie of the coast.

But, while I wished her every good, I could not close my eyes to several
things, since they pressed me hard. That, for instance, we were no longer
boy and girl together. And that, whereas Carette used to look up to me, now
the looking up was very much the other way. What her feelings might be
towards me, as I say, I could not be sure; for, little as I knew of girls,
I had picked up enough scraps of knowledge to be quite sure in my own mind
that they were strangely unaccountable creatures, and that you could not
judge either them or a good many other things entirely by outside
appearances. And again, it was borne in upon me very strongly, and as never
before, that, where two start fairly level, if one goes ahead, the other
must exert himself or be left behind. Carette was going ahead in marvellous
fashion. I felt myself in danger of being left behind, and that set my
brain to very active working.

I had a better education, in the truest sense of the word, than most of my
fellows, thanks to my mother and grandfather and Krok and M. Rousselot, the
schoolmaster. That gave me the use of my brains. I had in addition a good
sound body, and I had travelled and seen something of the world. Of worldly
possessions I had just the small savings of my pay and nothing more, and
common-sense told me that if I wanted to win Carette Le Marchant I must be
up and doing, and must turn myself to more profitable account.

I do not think there was in me any mercenary motive in this matter. I am
quite sure that in so thinking of things I attributed none to Carette. It
seemed to me that if a man wanted a wife he ought to be able to keep her,
and I considered the girl who married a man of precarious livelihood--as I
saw some of them do--very much of a fool. I have since come to know,
however, that that is only one way of looking at it, and that to some women
the wholehearted love of a true man counts for very much more than anything
else he can