"I don't know. The women all happen to be particularly nice. I should not break my heart if I thought I should never see some of the men again." "All women are particularly nice, according to you; no doubt my cousin Rachel would be included in the number. No, no; tell all that to the marines! I know you too well. And pray don't preach such dangerous doctrine. It would be precisely the people who have risen above their relatives only in the vulgar externals of life who would be most ready to take advantage of it." "Well, I confess that I always argue the matter with Frank. Personally, I don't see why one cannot be happy and cordial when one meets one's relations, without sacrificing one's self to them as you are doing." "I don't know that I am sacrificing myself. Perhaps," she added suddenly with a curious smile, "I shall acquire at Borrowness some personal experience in the 'wide, puzzling subject of compromise.'" "Compromise!" repeated Doris. "Please don't go out of your way for that. The magnificent thing about your life is that there is no occasion for compromise in it. That duty is reserved for people with benighted old fathers. Borrowness is somewhere near St Rules, is it not?" "Yes," said Mona. "There is only the breadth of the county between them." "I know some very nice people there. I shall be proud to give you an introduction if you like." "No, no, no, dear," said Mona quickly. "My friends must be my cousin's friends. Thank you very much all the same." "But, Mona, at the end of this miserable six months you will go on, won't you?" Mona frowned. "I have not the vaguest idea what I shall do at the end of the six months," she said. "You are taking your books with you?" "Some old classics and German books, nothing more." "No medical books?" "Not one." Doris sighed deeply. "Don't be so unhappy, dear. I wish with all my heart you could be a doctor yourself." "Oh, don't talk of that. It is no use. My father never will give his consent. But you know, dear, I am studying by proxy. I am living in your life. You must not fail me." "You talk as if suffering humanity could scarcely make shift to get along without me." "And that is what I think, in a sense. Oh, Mona"--she drew a long breath, and her face crimsoned--"it is so difficult to talk of it even to you. A young girl in my Bible-class went into the Infirmary a few weeks ago--only one case among many--and you should have heard what she told me! Of course I know it was only routine treatment. It would have been the same in any hospital; but that does not make it any better. She said she would rather die than go there again. No fate could have been worse." "Dear Doris! don't you think I know it all? But you must not say no fate could have been worse. The worst fate is moral wrong, and there is no moral wrong where our will is not concerned."