A whole series of such drab days went crawling on. After she had grumbled about her present grievances, her thoughts would leap back to memories of past days, of her former life. . . more and more frequently . . . I guessed that she was brooding about it, considering, comparing, passing judgment, and bewailing her lot. And I was silent, because I could find nothing to say and because the whole thing was beginning to be dull and objectionable.
Then one evening there was another flood-tide of emotion. For she had given notice to her employer, the ham-and-beef dealer, and had obtained a place as a vendor of soda-water. She was delighted with the change and the fresh outlook on life; it pleased her to think how we would go to the country in the evening . . . she confided to me that the assistant-teacher who was in love with her, had already written twice to her, that although she did not care for him, she had written back, that I should not be angry with her, as I knew what I was to her, and the like. And I did not begrudge her this innocent game,—indeed, it gave me pleasure, since what I felt for her had long ceased to be love. I felt myself something of a guardian towards her, an elder brother, a man who has drawn someone out of the water and who is waiting until their life is restored.
Her kiosk stood at a deserted corner of Vinoh-
