"Rules," said I, "are made to be proven by their more interesting exceptions. However, in future you are to endure no kiss and no caress--unless from me." "Oh. Is that the new lesson I am to learn and understand?" "That is the lesson. Will you remember it when I am gone?" "Gone?" "Yes. When I am gone away on duty. Will you remember, Penelope?" "I am like to," she said under her breath, and sewing rapidly. She stitched on in silence for a while; but now the light was dimming and she moved nearer the window, which was close by my bed head. After a while her hands dropped in her lap; she looked out into the twilight. I took her tired little hand in mine, but she did not turn her head. "I have," said I, "two thousand pounds sterling at my solicitor's in Albany. I wish you to have it if any accident happens to me.... And my glebe in Fonda's Bush.... I shall so write it in my will." She shook her head slightly, still gazing from the window. "Will you accept?" I asked. "What good would it do me? If I accept it I should only divide it among the needy--in memory of--of my dear boy friend--Jack Drogue----" She rose hastily and walked to the door, then very slowly retraced her steps to my bedside. "You are so kind to me," she murmured, touching my forehead. "You are so different to other men,--so truly gallant in your boy's soul. There is no evil in you,--no ruthlessness. Oh, I know--I know--more than I seem to know--of men.... And their importunities.... And of their wilful selfishness." I sat up straight. "Has any man made you unhappy?" I demanded in angry surprise. She seated herself and looked at me gravely. "Do you know," she said, "men have courted me always--even when I was scarce more than a child? And mine is a friendly heart, Mr. Drogue. I have a half shy desire to please. I am loath to inflict pain. But always my kindness seems like to cost me more than I choose to pay." "Pay to whom?" "To any man.... For example, I would not elope with Stephen Watts when he begged me at Caughnawaga. And Walter Butler addressed me also--in secret--being a friend of the Fondas and so free of the house.... And was ever stealthily importuning me to a stolen rendezvous which I had sense enough to refuse, knowing him to be both married and a rake, and cruel to women. "Oh, I tell you that they all courted me,--not kindly,--for ever there seemed to me in their ardent gaze and discreet whisperings something vaguely sinister. Not that it frightened me, nor did I take alarm, being too ignorant----" She folded her hands and looked down at them. "I like men.... I cared most for Stephen Watts.... Then one day I had a great fright.... Shall I tell it?" "Yes."