I am the cause of his ill-usage. It wasn’t long ago that a girl went straight from the farm to her husband, just as soon as her period came and she could make babies. Out of the beaten track, far from the trails of men! He relaxed. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. "I have one inquiry more to make of you, Sir," said the stranger, as soon as he had conquered his displeasure, "and I will then trouble you no further. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him. "As I said before, I have little reliance upon professions of gratitude. I ——” He stopped short.
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