“There you go again, Miriam, with your queer ideas.  It’s exactly what any one would expect you to say.”

“I hope so.”

“Oh, you needn’t hope so, because they would—­any one who knew you.  But I have to do what’s right.  I know what I feel in my conscience—­and I have to follow it.  And besides, I couldn’t—­I couldn’t”—­her voice began to rise again—­“I couldn’t face it—­I couldn’t bear it—­not if I loved him a great deal better than I do.”

“That’s something you must think about very seriously, dear—­”

“I don’t have to!” she cried, with a stamp of her foot.  “I know it already.  It wouldn’t make any difference if I thought about it a thousand years.  I couldn’t be engaged to a man who was in jail, not if I worshipped the ground he trod on.”

“But when he’s innocent, darling—­”

“It’s jail, just the same.  I can’t be engaged to people just because they’re innocent.  It isn’t right to expect it of me.  And, anyhow,” she added, passionately, “I can’t do it.  It would kill me.  I should never lift my head again.  I can’t—­I can’t.  It’s hateful of any one to say I ought to.  I’m surprised at you, Miriam, when you know how dear mamma would have forbidden it.  It’s all very well for you to give advice, when you have no family—­and no one to think about—­and hardly any invitations—­ Well, I can’t, and there’s an end of it.  If that’s your idea of love, then, I must say, my conception is a little different.  I’ve always had high ideals, and I feel obliged to hold to them, however you may condemn me.”

She ended with a catch in her breath something like a sob.

“But I’m not condemning you, Evie dear.  If you feel what you say, there’s nothing for it but to see Mr. Ford and tell him so.”

At this suggestion Evie sobered.  She was a long time silent before she observed, in a voice that had become suddenly calm and significantly casual, “That’s easy for you to say.”

“If you speak to him as decidedly as to me, I should think it would be easy for you to do.”

“And still easier for you.”

Evie spoke in that tone of unintentional intention which is most pointed.  It was not lost on Miriam, who recoiled from the mere thought.  It seemed to her better to ignore the hint, but Evie, with feverish eagerness, refused to let it pass.

“Did you hear what I said?” she persisted, sharply.

“I heard it, dear; but it didn’t seem to me to mean anything.”

“That would depend on whether you heard it only with the ear or in the heart.”

“You know that everything that has to do with you is in my heart.”

“Well, then?”

“But if you mean by that that I should tell Mr. Ford you’re not going to marry him—­why, it’s out of the question.”

“Then who’s to tell him? I can’t.  It’s not to be expected.”

“But, darling, you must.  This is awful.”

Miriam got up and went toward her, but Evie, who was nervously brushing her hair, edged away.