"Then you mean to say that it has always been dreadfully wrong of _me_ to come?" "Really, Katharine, you are very quarrelsome this evening," said Paul, with a forced laugh. "I have repeatedly pointed out to you that a man chooses some of his friends for pleasure, and others for business. I really fail to see why I should be subjected to this minute catechism at your hands." "Then you chose Marion--for business? It is true, then, what they said! I wish--oh, I wish you had never chosen me--for pleasure!" The anger had died out of her voice; he could hardly hear what she said; but he made a last attempt to treat the matter lightly. "I really think, my child, that any comparison between you and your cousin is unnecessary," he began in a conciliating manner. "I thought so too, until to-day," she replied, piteously. "But what has happened to-day to put you in this uncomfortable frame of mind?" "It is what every one is saying about you and Marion,--all those horrid people, and Mr. Heaton, and everybody. I want to know if it is true. Everything is going wrong, everywhere. I wish I were dead! I came to ask you if it is true; I thought I might do that; I thought I knew you well enough. I didn't know you would mind. If you like, I will go away now, and never come and see you any more, or bother you, or let you know that I care for you so awfully. Only, tell me first, Paul, whether it is true or not?" Her voice had risen, as she went on, and it ended full of passionate entreaty. The stern look on his face deepened, but he did not speak. "I wish I knew the meaning of it all," she continued, relentlessly as it seemed to him. "I wish it were easier to like the right people, and to hate all the others. Why was I made the wrong way? If I had never wanted to like you, it would have been so simple. It would not have mattered, then, that you did not really care for me. But I wish I understood you better. Why did you tell me that you wanted me for your friend, always; and that you didn't believe in marriage, and those things? I believed you so, Paul; and I was content to be your friend; you know I was, don't you? And now you have met Marion, and she is beautiful, and she can help you to get on, to become one of the first men in the country, they said. And you have forgotten all about your views against marriage; and you allow people to talk as though you were making a kind of bargain. Oh, it is horrible! But it isn't true, Paul, is it?" "Who has been telling you all these things?" he asked. "Then it is true? You are going to marry her, because of the position, and all that? I wish it wasn't so difficult to understand. Is it a crime, I wonder, to like any one so desperately as I like you? But I can't help it, can I? Oh, Paul, do tell me what to do?" He winced as she turned to him so naturally for protection, even though it was against himself that she asked it.