Is _that _selfishness ?" "No; it is only folly," says she in a low, curious tone.
Maurice regards her curiously.
"Marian," says he quickly, impulsively, "there are other places.

If you would come abroad with me, I could carve out a fresh life for us--I could work for you, live for you, endure all things for you.
Come! come!" He holds out his hands to her.
"But why--why not wait ?" exclaims she with deep agitation.

"Your uncle--he _cannot_ live for ever." "I detest dead men's shoes," returns he coldly.

Her last words have chilled him to his heart's core.

"And besides, my uncle has as good a life as my own." To this she makes no answer; her eyes are downbent.