As Ross looked at the new-created realistic image of her, he was amazed.

"Why, I've always disliked her!" he cried.

"I've been lying to myself.

I am too low for words," he groaned.

"Was there ever such a sneaking cur ?" Yes, many a one, full as unconscious of his own qualities as he himself had been until that moment; nor could he find consolation in the fact that he had company, plenty of company, and it of the world's most "gentlemanly" and most "ladylike." The young man who left that wood, the young man whom Arthur saw that day, had in his heart a consciousness, an ache, of lonely poverty that dress and dogcarts and social position could do little--something, but little--to ease.
* * * * * He stopped at Chicago and sent word to Windrift that he was ill--not seriously ill, but in such a state that he thought it best to take care of himself, with the wedding so near.