For some distance I followed, then with beating heart I overtook her, and, raiding my hat, addressed her. "You!" she gasped, halting suddenly, and looking into my face with terror. "Yes, Muriel!" I answered gravely. "At last I have found you, though I have striven in vain all these months." An expression of annoyance crossed her features, but next second a forced laugh escaped her. "Why did you leave Madame's in the manner you did, without saying anything to me?" I inquired, as I walked on at her side. "I did not leave of my own accord," she replied. "I was discharged because you kept me late, and I broke the rules." "But you did not send me your address," I exclaimed reproachfully. "I had no object in doing so," she responded, in a wearied voice, as if the effort of speaking were too much for her. "You acted cruelly--very cruelly," I said. "No, I scarcely think that," she protested. "I told you quite plainly that we could be but mere acquaintances in future." "But I cannot understand you," I cried, dismayed. "What have I done to deserve your contempt, Muriel?" "Nothing," she responded coldly. "I do not hold you in contempt." "But you love another!" I cried quickly, recollecting her companion of the previous night. "And if I do," she answered, "it is only my own concern, I suppose." "No!" I cried fiercely. "It is mine, for I alone love you truly and honestly. This man you love is a knave--a scoundrel--a--" "How do you know him?" she interrupted, regarding me in wonder. "Have you seen us together?" "Yes," I replied, bitterly. "Last night I saw you with him. How long will you scorn my affection and trample my love beneath your feet? Think, Muriel!" I implored; "think how dearly I love you. Tell me that this shall not continue always." "I am perfectly happy," she answered, in a mechanical tone, not, however, without noticing my hesitation. "I have no desire to change." "Happy!" I repeated blankly. "Are you then happy in that low-class drapery place, where you are compelled to dance attendance on the wives of city clerks, and are treated with contempt by them because they think it a sign of good breeding to show capriciousness, and give you all the unnecessary trouble possible? In their eyes--in the eyes of those around you--you are only a `shop-girl,' but in mine, Muriel," I added, bending nearer her in deep earnestness, "you are a queen--a woman fitted to be my wife. Can you never love me? Will you never love me?" "It is impossible!" she answered in faltering tones, walking slower as though she would return to escape me. "Why impossible?" "I am entirely happy as I am," she responded. "Because this man with whom I saw you last night has declared his love for you," I cried fiercely. "You believe him, and thus cast me aside." She drew a long breath, and her dark eyes were downcast.