'I'm not thinking of myself, Mildred. I am sure you would not do anything wrong, that you would not disgrace yourself; I was merely wondering what people would think. Do the priests approve of this kind of writing?' 'I don't submit my writings to my Confessor,' Mildred answered laughing. 'And your position in this house. Your intimacy with M. Delacour. I found you sitting side by side on this sofa.' 'I never heard before that there was any harm in sitting on a sofa with a man. But there are people who see immorality in every piece of furniture in a drawing-room.' 'You seemed very intimate, that's all. What does Madame Delacour say? Does she approve of this intimacy?' 'I don't know what you mean. What intimacy? Madame Delacour does not see any harm in my sitting on a sofa with her husband. She knows me very well. She knows that I wouldn't do anything wrong. She's my most intimate friend; she is quite satisfied, I can assure you. I'll introduce you to her as you go out.' 'I see you are anxious to join your company, I must not keep you from your guests any longer. I suppose I shall not see you again, I return to-morrow.' 'Then it is good-bye.' 'I suppose so, unless you return with me.' 'Return to Sutton to look after your house!' 'I don't want you to look after my house; you can have a housekeeper. I'm sorry you think that is why I want you to return. Perhaps you think that is why I came over. Oh, Mildred!' 'Harold, I'm sorry. I did not think such a thing. It was good of you to come to Paris. Harold, you're not angry?' 'No, Mildred, I'm not angry. But all this seems strange to me: this house, these people, this paper.' 'I know, I know. But we cannot all think alike. We never did think alike. But that should not interfere in our affection for one another. We should love each other. We are alone in the world, father and mother both gone, only a few aunts and cousins that we don't care about.' 'Do you ever think of what father and mother would say if they knew? What would they think of your choosing to leave home to live with these people?' 'Do not let us argue these things, we shall never agree.' The affection which had suddenly warmed her had departed, and her heart had grown cold as stone again. 'Each must be free to choose his or her life.' 'You surely don't intend always to live here?' 'Always? I don't know about always, for the present certainly.' 'Then there is nothing but to say good-bye.' XIX. One evening in spring Mildred returned home. Harold had not long returned from the city, the candles were lighted. He was sitting in the drawing-room thinking, thinking of her. 'Mildred! is that you?' 'Yes, how do you do, Harold?' 'Come and sit near the fire, you've had a cold journey. When did you return?' 'Last night. We had a dreadful crossing, I stayed in bed all the morning. That was why I didn't come to see you in the city.' Harold sat for some moments without speaking, looking into the fire.