For the first time Crane looked at her with suspicion. Her tone and look were demure in the extreme. He decided to go on. "Well, then," he said, "if I were you I would not have a gentleman, especially such an impulsive one, hanging about, unless you are engaged to him with the consent of your family." She raised her chin, without lifting her eyes. "It's not the consent of our families that's lacking," she remarked. "Oh, he's asked you to marry him?" "Almost every day, sir, until to-day." "And to-day he didn't?" "To-day he said he wouldn't marry me, if I were the last woman in the world." "And what did you think about that?" "I thought it wasn't true, sir." Crane laughed aloud at this direct answer. "And it sounds to me as if you were right, Jane-Ellen," he said. "But, at the same time, I can't see for the life of me why, if you don't mean to marry him, you let him kiss you." "If you please, sir, it's not always possible to prevent. You see I'm not very large." Crane looked at her, and had to admit that the feat would be extremely easy. She hardly came to one's shoulder; almost any man--Hastily putting aside this train of thought, he said in a more judicial tone: "You know your own affairs best. Is the young man able to support you?" "Yes, sir, very comfortably." "And yet you don't consider marrying him?" "No, sir. I don't love him." Matters had suddenly become rather serious. "You would rather work for your living than marry a man you don't love?" Crane asked, almost in spite of himself. For the first time the cook looked up, straight at him, as she answered: "I think I would rather die, sir." This time it was Crane's eyes that dropped. Fortunately, he reflected, she could not have any idea how sharply her remark had touched his own inner state. How clearly she saw that it was wrong to do just what he was contemplating doing--to marry for prudence, rather than for love. He found himself speculating on the genesis of the moral sense, how it developed in difficulties rather than in ease. That was why he could learn something on the subject from his cook. Here was a girl working for her living, working hard and long, for wages which though he had once, he remembered, told Reed they seemed excessive, now appeared to him the merest pittance; certainly it seemed as if all the hardships of such a life would be smoothed away by this suggested marriage, and yet she could assert clearly that she would rather die than make it; whereas he, with nothing very much at stake, had actually been contemplating for several months the making of just such a marriage--He was interrupted by her respectful tones: "Will that be all, sir?" "Yes," he answered in a voice that lacked finality. "I suppose that's all, except if that fellow comes bothering you any more, let me know, and I'll tell him what I think of him." Jane-Ellen lifted the corner of her mouth in a terrible smile. "Oh," she said, "I don't think he'll come bothering any more."