“And then--” the girl gave a little laugh--“I fainted--wasn’t it ridiculous? I _am_ such an idiot. It makes me ashamed to think of it now--when there was so much to be done--and for me to faint!” She gave an impatient little shake of the head. “I am sure you never did anything so silly as to faint!” She glanced admiringly at Professor Arbuthnot. “I don’t think I ever experienced any emotion sufficiently strong to make me.” Miss Arbuthnot spoke so grimly that the girl jumped up hurriedly. “I’m awfully afraid I am boring you and keeping you from your work----” She gave a glance at the manuscript upon the desk. “I’m sure you are wanting to get at it, and think me very troublesome to tell you all this about myself.” Professor Arbuthnot looked at her a moment. “Sit down!” she said imperiously. “I am learning more than if I were working on the physical principles of the nebular theory!” The girl gave a gay, puzzled little laugh. “Are you making fun of me? I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Miss Arbuthnot waved her remark away impatiently. “And after you had recovered from your fainting spell, what happened?” “Oh--I helped the doctor and we pulled Julian through together somehow. And then I went to work. He was ill all winter--something had to be done--I sing fairly well----” “I remember now,” broke in Miss Arbuthnot. “You used to sing at College Vespers. I liked your voice.” The girl gave a gasp of pleasure. She felt immensely flattered that Professor Arbuthnot had liked to hear her sing. “Thank you,” she said feelingly. “I got a position in a church choir and I went into town three days in the week and gave lessons. I made four hundred dollars that winter.” She broke off with a little laugh. “I don’t think I ever felt so good in all my life as when I counted up and found that I had really made four hundred dollars for Julian! I never understood before why poor people want to get married--it’s for the fun of working for each other I think. It’s the most satisfying sensation I know of.” She glanced up at the woman beside the window. Miss Arbuthnot nodded absently. She was thinking of her safe investments--she had accumulated a good deal of money during her long years of teaching and her people had all been well off and she had never given a cent to anyone except in presents and trifling remembrances and organized charitable work. A strange desire grew upon her to share her life with someone. She looked with troubled eyes at the girl who had suddenly made her work and her life dissatisfying to her. “I don’t understand”--she murmured--“and didn’t you ever regret--regret your wealth and social position?--the other life you had known?” “I think it’s my turn not to understand,” said the girl slowly with a puzzled look. “You mean did I regret marrying Julian?” Miss Arbuthnot nodded. An angry little flush mounted to the girl’s cheek, and then, as if the mere thought was too amusing to be taken seriously: