"Why not?" Tom demanded fiercely. He was unhappy, and therefore fierce. At this moment he felt that Ethel was worth more than all the world could offer beside. He would have sacrificed even his herbaria to win her! Who then might say that he could not make Ethel happy? "We are not made for one another," Ethel asserted. "Our tastes are different, and our ways. It would be a perpetual rub and fret." "Why should it?" insisted Tom. "Husbands and wives don't always like the same things." He was right enough there, no doubt. "No, I suppose not. But they ought to be able to agree to differ, able to go their own separate paths in peace. It doesn't sound like a cheerful arrangement exactly, but it is what has to be in a great many cases." She spoke soberly, as if familiar with various phases of matrimonial life. "And you know that is what you and I never could do. You would never leave me in peace." Tom broke in to assure her that he would. He would do anything, everything. There was nothing under the sun that Tom would not do to please Ethel. "Yes, that is all very kind," said Ethel, smiling. "But one has to look forward, and when a lover becomes a husband, things are not exactly the same. Everybody says so, and I have seen it. You might mean to leave me in peace, but you wouldn't be able. It is not your way. You would never be happy unless I could like what you liked, and then I should be cross, and you would be vexed." Tom was indignant. As if Ethel ever was cross! As if he ever could be vexed—with her! "Oh, I can be desperately cross; and I assure you, Tom, you would very soon be vexed with me. Scientific specimens are all very well for a month, but you don't know how I should detest them if it were always!" "I believe you have other reasons," declared Tom, with no small annoyance. "It's inconceivable that you should refuse me for nothing but this." "I don't say I have no other reasons. Of course I have. But isn't one enough?" asked Ethel cheerfully. "No; one isn't enough!" said wrathful Tom. "One isn't enough, especially when that one's not the true one! I believe you care a great deal too much for that fellow at the Grange." Ethel's face flamed into anger, and she stood up to leave the room. "Tom, if you are going to be rude, I have done with you. I didn't wish to hurt your feelings more than was needed; but as you are determined to have another reason, it's easy enough to give. I don't care an atom for you, and I never shall care! I don't want ever to see anything more of you at all." Tom was crushed. He had done the business now, and no mistake. The proverbial dove flying in his face would not have amazed him more than this indignant outburst. He did not dare to follow Ethel; but presently he heard a step running downstairs, and when he looked out of the window, there was Ethel in the garden, dressed as for a walk. Where could she be going? Darkness fell early these wintry afternoons. It would soon be dusk.