“Not that I want you to be bitter,” said Hal, still laughing, “but it’s I that ought to be on my knees before you. I didn’t accomplish anything, you know.” “Ye did all ye could--and more than the rest of us. I want ye to know I’ll never forget it. But I want ye to hear the other thing, too!” She walked on, staring before her, doubling up her hands in agitation. “Well?” said he, still trying to keep a cheerful tone. “Ye remember that day just after the explosion? Ye remember what I said about--about goin’ away with ye? I take it back.” “Oh, of course!” said he, quickly. “You were distracted, Mary--you didn’t know what you were saying.” “No, no! That’s not it! But I’ve changed my mind; I don’t mean to throw meself away.” “I told you you’d see it that way,” he said. “No man is worth it.” “Ah, lad!” said she. “’Tis the fine soothin’ tongue ye have--but I’d rather ye knew the truth. ’Tis that I’ve seen the other girl; and I hate her!” They walked for a bit in silence. Hal had sense enough to realise that here was a difficult subject. “I don’t want to be a prig, Mary,” he said gently; “but you’ll change your mind about that, too. You’ll not hate her; you’ll be sorry for her.” She laughed--a raw, harsh laugh. “What kind of a joke is that?” “I know--it may seem like one. But it’ll come to you some day. You have a wonderful thing to live and fight for; while she”--he hesitated a moment, for he was not sure of his own ideas on this subject--“she has so many things to learn; and she may never learn them. She’ll miss some fine things.” “I know one of the fine things she does not mean to miss,” said Mary, grimly; “that’s Mr. Hal Warner.” Then, after they had walked again in silence: “I want ye to understand me, Mr. Warner--” “Ah, Mary!” he pleaded. “Don’t treat me that way! I’m Joe.” “All right,” she said, “Joe ye shall be. ’Twill remind ye of a pretty adventure--bein’ a workin’ man for a few weeks. Well, that’s a part of what I have to tell ye. I’ve got my pride, even if I’m only a poor miner’s daughter; and the other day I found out me place.” “How do you mean?” he asked. “Ye don’t understand? Honest?” “No, honest,” he said. “Ye’re stupid with women, Joe. Ye didn’t see what the girl did to me! ’Twas some kind of a bug I was to her. She was not sure if I was the kind that bites, but she took no chances--she threw me off, like that.” And Mary snapped her hand, as one does when troubled with a bug. “Ah, now!” pleaded Hal. “You’re not being fair!” “I’m bein’ just as fair as I’ve got it in me to be, Joe. I been off and had it all out. I can see this much--’tis not her fault, maybe--’tis her class; ’tis all of ye--the very best of ye, even yeself, Joe Smith!” “Yea,” he replied, “Tim Rafferty said that.”