“I know. You were about to say that no one should think hardly of me for making a fool of any man, considering how great a fool I was made by a man. That was what was in your mind; but you were wrong, Rosie dear, for I don’t think at all bitterly of men. On the contrary, I tell you that you must be prepared for the worst--what your father and other professional moralists would call the worst--from me. I’m only an amateur moralist. In fact, I’m not quite sure that I should even call myself an amateur. I don’t really know that I have any morals whatever.” “You have no need for any. What do girls like you or me know of morals?” “Nothing, except those we got hold of when we read Fontaine’s Fables at school.” “And then we always skipped or slurred over the ‘morals’--they spoilt the story.” “They did, and that is what they do every day; they spoil our stories. Oh, what idiots we are--a couple of girls who have seen nothing in the world and know nothing in the world, moralizing on morals! I’m not sure that it isn’t immoral to discuss morality, Rosa. I should like to have the opinion of a specialist on this point.” “Try Miss Southover.” “A maiden schoolmistress who makes a thousand a year by teaching girls how to be at once dignified and dunces! She would be too shocked to be able to give an opinion. No, I should apply to a man of the world--a bishop, or at least a rural dean. Now I have done with this subject. I didn’t go very far, did I? A year ago I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have gone even so far.” “Poor old Pris!” “You may say that. I feel to-day as old as your grandmother. And I have been thinking--oh, what thinking! I know what there is in me, Rosa. If ever any girl was made to be a help to a man, that girl was me. And am I, because I allowed myself to be made a fool of--am I therefore bound to do nothing with my life--nothing, only to live it--to live my life apart from all that makes life life?” “Poor old Pris! There never was any one who had half your bad luck!” “You may say that. But you needn’t think that I have done with life yet. I haven’t.” “That’s what I love about you, Priscilla. You are so rebellious! You are not one of the tame ones who submit to what they call the will of Providence.” “I think too highly of Providence to believe that its will is that my life should be wrecked by no fault of my own--no fault except obedience. It was my obedience that made me what I am to-day, and upon my word I don’t believe that my punishment is out of proportion to my offence.” “Your offence? But you never----”