e had so much to
burden him already--all he could carry. But she had been so long
bringing herself to the point of resolution in the matter, she had so
firmly convinced herself that her duty lay along that dark and obscure
path, that she clung to her purpose.

After dinner, when she came downstairs from putting Ariadne to bed, she
found him already bent over the writing-table, covering a sheet of paper
with figures. "You remember, Paul, I have something to talk over with
you," she began, her mouth twitching in a nervous smile.

He pushed the papers aside, and looked up at her with a weary
tenderness. "Oh, yes; I do remember. We might as well have it over now,
I suppose. Wait a minute, though." He went to the couch, piled the
pillows at one end, and lay down, his hands clasped under his head. "I
might as well rest myself while we talk, mightn't I?"

"Oh, yes, yes, poor dear!" cried Lydia remorsefully. "I wish I didn't
_have_ to bother you!"

"I wish so, too," he said whimsically. "Sure it's nothing you can't
settle yourself?" He closed his eyes and yawned.

"I don't _want_ to settle it myself!" cried Lydia with a rush, seeing an
opening ready-made. "That's the point. I want you to be in it! I want
you to help me! Paul, I'm sure there's something the matter with the way
we live--I don't like it! I don't see that it helps us a bit--or anyone
else--you're just killing yourself to make money that goes to get us
things we don't need nearly as much as we need more of each other! We're
not getting a bit nearer to each other--actually further away, for we're
both getting different from what we were without the other's knowing
how! And we're not getting nicer--and what's the use of living if we
don't do that? We're just getting more and more set on scrambling along
ahead of other people. And we're not even having a good time out of it!
And here is Ariadne--and another one coming--and we've nothing to give
them but just this--this--this--"

She had poured out her accumulated, pent-up convictions with passion,
feeling an immense relief that she had at last expressed herself--that
at last she had made a breach in the wall that separated her from Paul.
At the end, as she hesitated for a phrase to sum up her indictment of
their life, her eyes fell on Paul's face. Its expression turned her
cold. She stopped short. He did not open his eyes, and the ensuing
silence was filled with his regular, heavy breathing. He had fallen
asleep