"Is she? I am glad. It is about her I want to talk, dear. My time here now is very short—we both know it, don't we?—and if it were not for yon, and for this dear devoted girl, I should be glad to go. As it is, I am unhappy—very unhappy."
She wanted him to ask "Why?" But he was silent. He stroked her thin hand, and looked away. He saw that the explanation he had so long avoided was inevitable.
"Do you know what this book is called?" she said, holding up the yellow-paper-covered volume. "It is called 'À Coté du Bonheur.' I am so afraid that may be your case, Ally. Having happiness, perhaps, within your grasp, that you will let it slip by you—past all recall!"
"Happiness is not within my grasp. On the contrary, it is out of reach at present. I won't pretend to misunderstand you, Hatty. Rest satisfied, dear, that if this could be, it should be; but it is impossible"
"Why?"
"You know I told you long ago that I could never marry as long as I was penniless. I am worse than penniless—I am in debt, and to this very girl! Think of that, and then of my asking her to wipe out the debt by marrying me! Dragging her down to my poverty; trading upon her devotion to you, her womanly self-sacrifice, her position here with us, to make her accept a man who has nothing—absolutely nothing to offer her!"
"What do you mean by being in her debt?" Hatty gasped.
"I mean that it was she who bought my picture to enable us to have the money to come here. It was noble, it was like her; but it has been a cruel blow to my pride, to
