I could tell you something--the history of this day, even--that would make you despise me." Beaton had in mind his purchase of the overcoat, which Alma was getting in so effectively, with the money he ought to have sent his father.

"But," he went on, darkly, with a sense that what he was that moment suffering for his selfishness must somehow be a kind of atonement, which would finally leave him to the guiltless enjoyment of the overcoat, "you wouldn't believe the depths of baseness I could descend to." "I would try," said Alma, rapidly shading the collar, "if you'd give me some hint." Beaton had a sudden wish to pour out his remorse to her, but he was afraid of her laughing at him.

He said to himself that this was a very wholesome fear, and that if he could always have her at hand he should not make a fool of himself so often.

A man conceives of such an office as the very noblest for a woman; he worships her for it if he is magnanimous.

But Beaton was silent, and Alma put back her head for the right distance on her sketch.