reated you right; I've treated you shamefully. I
will do anything on earth you say to square it. I will! Recollect, I
had lived among men and in the same country with women like that for
years before I knew you. I didn't know how to treat you; I admit it.
Give me another chance, Marion."

"I gave you all that I had when I married you, Murray. I haven't
anything more to give to any man. You would be disappointed in me if I
could ever live with you again, and I could not do that without living
a lie every day."

He bent forward, looking at the ground. He talked of their first
meeting in Wisconsin; of the happiness of their little courtship; he
brought up California again, and the Northwest coast, where, he told
her, a great railroad was to be built and he should find the chance he
needed to make a record for himself--it had been promised him--a
chance to be the man his abilities entitled him to be in railroading.
"And I've got a customer for the ranch and the cows, Marion. I don't
care for this business--damn the cows! let somebody else chase after
'em through the sleet. I've done well; I've made money--a lot of
money--the last two years in my cattle deals, and I've got it put
away, Marion; you need never lift your hand to work in our house
again. We can live in California, and live well, under our own orange
trees, whether I work or not. All I want to know is, will you go with
me?"

"No! I will not go with you, Murray."

He moved in his seat and threw his head up appealingly. "Why not?"

"I will never be dishonest with you; I never have been and I never
will be. I have nothing in my heart to give you, and I will not live
upon your money. I am earning my own living. I am as content as I ever
can be, and I shall stay where I am and do what I am doing till I die,
probably. And this is why I came when you asked me to; to tell you the
exact truth. I am not a girl any longer--I never can be again. I am a
woman. What I was before I married you I never can be again, and you
have no right to ask me to be a hypocrite and say I can love you--for
that is what it all comes to--when I have no such thing in my heart or
life for you. It is dead and gone, and I cannot help it."

"That sounds pretty hard, Marion."

"It is only the truth. It sounded fearfully hard to me when you told
me that woman was your friend--that you knew her before you knew me
and would know her after I was dead; that she was as good as I, and
that if I did