The words took her by surprise.  He could see her draw her cloak more tightly about her, her hands still within its folds.

“I felt that way at first.  I don’t now.  Perhaps I understand you a little better.  But, in any case, I couldn’t take his.”

He pushed the liberty a little further.  “But if you’re going to marry him—­”

“That’s just it.  I wonder if you’ve the faintest idea of what it means to a woman to marry a man by making herself a burden to him in advance—­and such a burden!”

“It wouldn’t be a burden to any one who—­who—­”

“I know what you’re going to say.  Love does make a difference.  Of course.  But it acts one way on the man and another way on the woman.  In proportion as it urges him to make the sacrifice, it impels her to prevent it.”

He grew still bolder.  The cover of the night and the intimacy of the situation made him venturesome.  “Then why don’t you break off your engagement?”

It was a long while before she answered.  “He won’t let me,” she said then.  “And, besides,” she added, after slight hesitation, “it’s difficult not to be true to a man who’s showing himself so noble.”

“Is that your only reason?”

She raised her head slightly and turned toward him.  He expected something cutting, but she only said:  “What makes you ask that?”

He was a little frightened.  He backed down, and yet not altogether.  “Oh, nothing.  I only—­wondered.”

“If you think I don’t care for him—­”

“Oh no.  Not that—­not that at all.”

“Well, if you were to think it, it would probably be because I’ve been through so much—­I’m going through so much—­that that sort of thing has become secondary.”

“I didn’t know that—­that sort of thing—­was ever secondary.”

“Because you’ve never had the experience.  If you had—­”

The freedom of speech she seemed to be according him led him on to say: 

“I’ve had experience enough—­as you may know—­to be sure it wouldn’t be secondary with me.”

She seemed willing to discuss the point.  “When I say secondary I mean that I’m in a position in which I find it isn’t the most important thing in the world to me to marry the man I—­I care for.”

“Then, what is the most important thing?”

She stirred impatiently.  “Oh, it’s no use going into that; I suppose it would be—­to be free—­not to owe you anything—­or anybody anything—­to be out of this big, useless house—­away from these unpaid servants—­and—­and free!  I’m not a dependent person.  I dare say you’ve noticed that.  I shouldn’t mind having no money.  I know a way by which I could support myself—­and papa.  I’ve thought that out.  I shouldn’t mind being alone in the world, either—­if I could only burst the coil that’s been wound about me.”

“But since you can’t,” he said, rather cruelly, “wouldn’t the next best thing be—­to marry the man you care for?”