"It is you," he cried, "you, who are talking folly, when you speak of

friendship between you and me. It is not the woman who speaks there.

It is the vapouring school girl. I tell you that I love you, Anna, and

I believe that you love me. You are necessary to me. I shall give you

my life, every moment and thought of my life. You must come back. See

what you have made of me. I cannot work, I cannot teach. You have

grown into my life, and I cannot tear you out."

Anna was silent. She was trembling a little. The man's passion was

infectious. She had to school herself to speak the words which she

knew would cut him like a knife.

"You are mistaken, David. I have counted you, and always hoped to

count you, the best of my friends. But I do not love you. I do not

love any one."

"I don't believe it," he answered hoarsely. "We have come too close

together for me to believe it. You care for me a little, I know. I

will teach you how to make that little sufficient."

"You came to tell me this?"

"I came for you," he declared fiercely.

The hansom sped through the crowded streets. Anna suddenly leaned

forward and looked around her.

"We are not going the right way," she exclaimed.

"You are coming my way," Courtlaw answered. "Anna," he pleaded, "be

merciful. You care for me just a little, I know. You are alone in the

world, you have no one save yourself to consider. Come back with me

to-night. Your old rooms are there, if you choose. I kept them on

myself till the sight of your empty chair and the chill loneliness of

it all nearly sent me mad."

Anna lifted her hand and pushed open the trap door.

"Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman," she ordered.

The man pulled up his horse grumbling, and turned round. Courtlaw sat

with folded arms. He said nothing.

"My friend," she said, "no! Let me tell you this. Nothing would induce

me to marry you, or any man at present. I am a pauper, and as yet I

have not discovered how to earn money. I am determined to fight my own

little battle with the world--there must be a place for me somewhere,

and I mean to find it. Afterwards, it may be different. If I were to

marry you now I should feel a dependent being all my life--a sort of

parasitical creature without blood or muscle. I should lose every

scrap of independence--even my self-respect. However good you were to

me, and however happy I was in other ways, I should find this

intolerable."

"All these things," he muttered bitterly, "this desperate resolve to

take your life into your own hands, your unnatural craving for

independence, would never trouble you for a moment--if you really

cared."




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