Reticence was natural to him; he refrained from questioning her, and thought instead of some harmless subject of conversation. Her painting? But she had abandoned painting. Her money? she had lost it! ... that was the trouble she was in. He had warned her against putting her money into that paper.... But there was no use worrying her, she would tell him presently. Besides, there was not time to talk about it now, dinner would soon be ready. 'It is now half-past six, don't you think you'd better go upstairs and get ready?' 'Oh, don't bother me about the dinner, Harold. What does it matter if it is a few minutes late. I can't go upstairs yet. I want to sit here.' She looked round the room and remembered how her father used to sit in the chair Harold was sitting in. He was getting bald just like father. He looked just like father, his head seen against the book-cases, the light catching the ends of his bristly hair. But who was she like? she didn't know, not like poor dear mother who thought of nothing but her husband and her children. From whom had she got her tastes, her taste for painting--her ideas, God knows. She wished she were like other people. Like Harold. Yet she didn't know that she would like to be quite so simple, so matter of fact. They were only like in one thing, neither had married. She had never thought of that before, and wondered why. But he would marry one of these days. He wasn't forty yet. Then she would have to leave Sutton, she couldn't live there with a step-sister. 'So you're not married yet, Harold.' 'No, not yet.' 'Not even engaged?' 'No, not even engaged.' 'I suppose you will one of these days.' 'Perhaps, one of these days, but I'm in no hurry. And you, are you as much set against marriage as ever? Alfred Stanby has never married, I don't think he ever will. I think you broke his heart.' 'I don't believe in breaking men's hearts.' 'You are just the kind of woman who does break men's hearts.' 'Why do you say that? You think me heartless.' 'No, Mildred, I don't think you heartless--only you're not like other girls.' No, I'm not. I've too much heart, that's been my misfortune, I should have got on better if I had less.' Harold had no aptitude or taste of philosophical reflections, so he merely mentioned that Alfred was living in Sutton, and hoped that Mildred would not mind meeting him. 'No, I don't mind meeting him, but he may not like to meet me. Does he ever speak of me?' 'Yes, he does sometimes.... I never knew why you threw him over. He's really a very good fellow. He has worked hard and is now making a fair income.' 'I'm glad of that.... I suppose I did treat him badly. But no worse than men treat women every day.' 'Why did you throw him over?' 'I don't know. It's so long ago. He didn't understand me. I thought I should find some one who did.... I know the world better now.' 'Would you marry him if he were to propose again?'