me to say that I have nothing to
gain by living in this house, that I have nothing to gain by living in a
place which revolts and terrifies me,--not always, but at times. Well, you
may spare yourself the pain of saying all that to me. I shall continue to
live here, even though nothing comes of it, as you say. I shall continue
to sit here in this rather enchanting place and wait for you to come and
share it with me. If you--"

"Good God! That is just what I am trying to tell you that I cannot--"

"I know, I know," she broke in impatiently. "That is just what you are
trying to tell me, and this is just what I am trying to tell you. I do not
say that you will ever come to me here, Braden. I am only saying to you
that I shall wait for you. If you do not come, that is your affair, not
mine. I love you. I love you with every bit of selfishness that is in my
soul, every bit of goodness that is in my heart, and every bit of badness
that is in my blood. I am proud to tell you that I am selfish in this one
respect, if no longer in any other. I would give up everything else in the
world to have you. That is how selfish I am. I want to be happy and I
selfishly want you to be happy--for my sake if not for your own. Do you
suppose that I am glorifying myself by living here? Do you suppose that I
am justifying myself? If you do, you are very greatly mistaken. I am here
because you led me to believe that--that things might be altered if I--" Her
lips trembled despite the brave countenance she presented to him. In a
second she had quelled the threatened weakness. "I have made this house a
paradise. I have made it a place in which you may find happiness if you
care to seek for it here. At night I shudder and cringe, because I am the
coward you would try to reform. I hide nothing from myself. I am afraid to
be alone in this house. But I shall stay--I shall stay."

"Do you think that I could ever find happiness in this house--now?" he
demanded hoarsely.

"Do you expect to find happiness anywhere else, Braden?" she asked, a
little break in her voice.

"No. I shall never find happiness anywhere else,--real happiness, I mean. I
cannot be happy without you, Anne."

"Nor I without you," she said simply. "I don't see that it makes very much
difference _where_ we choose to be unhappy, Braden, so I shall take mine
here,--where it is likely to be complete."

"But that is just what I don't want you to do," he cried angrily. "I don't
want you