"Up to a certain point," said Maria Dolores, slowly, "I understand your scruples. I understand that a poor man might feel that he would not like to make the advances, if the woman he loved was rich. But suppose the woman loved him, and knew that he loved her, and knew that it was only his poverty which held him back, then _she_ might make the advances. She might put aside her pride, and go halfway to meet him, and to remove his difficulties and embarrassments. If, after that, he still did not ask her, I think his scruples would have become mere vanity,--I think it would show that he cared more for his mere vanity than for her happiness." Her voice died out. John could see that her lip quivered a little. His throat was dry. The pulses were pounding in his temples. His brain was all a confusion. He hardly knew what had befallen him, he hardly knew what she had said. He only knew that there was a great ball of fire in his breast, and that the pain of it was half an immeasurable joy. "God forgive me," the absurd and exaggerated stickler for the dignity of his sex wildly cried. "God knows how I love her, how I care for her happiness. But to go to her empty-handed,--but to put myself in the position of being kept by a woman,--God knows how impossible it is." Maria Dolores stood up, still looking away from him. "Well, let us hope," she said, changing her tone to one of unconcerned detachment, "that we have been discussing baseless suppositions. Let us hope that her heart is quite untouched. And for both your sakes," she concluded, her head in the air, "let us hope that you and she will never meet again. Good-bye." She gave him a curt little nod, and walked lightly, rapidly up the avenue. John's brain was all a confusion. He looked after her helplessly. He only knew that there was a great ball of fire in his breast, and that the pain of it was now unmixed. V Maria Dolores tripped into Frau Brandt's sitting-room, merrily singing a snatch of song. "_Gardez vous d'être sévère Quand on vous park d'amour_," she carolled. Then she stopped singing, and blithely laughed. Frau Brandt raised her good brown face from her knitting, and her good brown eyes looked anxiously upwards, slantwise over her tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles. "What is the matter now?" she asked. "What has happened to vex you now?" "To vex me!" cried Maria Dolores, in apparent astonishment. "Wasn't I singing aloud from sheer exuberance of high spirits?" "No," said Frau Brandt, with a very positive shake of her white-capped head. "You were singing to conceal your low spirits. What has happened?" "Ah, well, then, if you know so much and must know all," said Maria Dolores, "I've just proposed to the man I'm in love with, and been sent about my business." "What do you mean?" asked Frau Brandt, phlegmatic. "What nonsense is this?"