"And yet," said I, "although I am in funds, you refuse aid and choose rather to play the tailoress! Is that fair?" "But--I am nothing to you----" "Are you not? And am I then more to you than are you to me, that you would aid me in necessity?" She drew her hand from mine and went back to her chair. "That is my fate," said she, smiling at me. "I was born to give, not to receive. I can not take; I can not refuse to give." "Yes," said I, "you even gave me your lips once." She blushed vividly, her eyes hard on her sewing. "I shall not do the like again," said she, all rosy to the roots of her gold hair. "And why, pray?" "Because I know better now." After a silence I turned me on my pillow and sighed heavily. "John?" she inquired in gentle anxiety, "are you in great pain?" I groaned. She came to me again and laid her cool, soft hand on my head; and I caught it in both of mine and drew her down to me. "I am a cripple and a beggar for your kindness, Penelope," I said. "I ask alms of you. Will you kiss me?" "Oh," she exclaimed, "you have deceived me! Let me go! Loose me instantly!" "Will you kiss me out of that charity which you say you practice?" "That is not charity!----" "What is begged for is charity. And you say you are made to give." "But you taught me otherwise! And now you undo your own schooling!----" "But I owe it you--this kiss!" "How do you owe it me?" "You kissed me in the snow, and left me in your debt." "Oh, goodness! That frolic! Have you not long ago forgotten our winter madness----" "Like you," said I, "I must pay my just debts and owe nobody." And I drew her nearer, all flushed with protest, firm to escape, yet gentle in her supple, pretty way lest she hurt me. I laughed, and saw my gaiety reflected in her eyes an instant. Then, of a sudden, she put one arm around my neck and rested her lips on mine. And so I kissed her, and she suffered it, resting so against me with lowered eyes. The flower-sweetness of her mouth bewildered me, and I was confused by it and by the stifled tumult of my heart, so that I scarce had sense enough to detain her when she drew away. She sat at my side, the faint smile still stamped on her lips, but her brown eyes seemed a little frightened, and her breast rose and fell like a scared bird's under the snowy kerchief. "Well--and well," says she in her pretty, breathless way--"I am overpaid, I think, and you are now acquitted of your debt. And so--and so our folly ends ... and now is finally ended." She took her sewing. A golden light was in the room; and she seemed to me the loveliest thing I had ever looked upon. I realized it. I knew she was loveliest of all. And the swift knowledge seemed to choke me. After a little while she stole a look at me, met my eyes, laughed guiltily. "You!" said she, "a schoolmaster! You teach me one thing and would have me practice another. What confidence can I entertain for such wisdom as is yours, John Drogue?"