"You came to me," she faltered at length, without daring to lift her eyes to his, lest he should see the tears which filled them--"you came to me--a beggar girl--a pauper----"
"No," he said, "a brave, hard-working, honourable girl! Doris, you have suffered, are suffering now; but by marrying me you will be lifted at once out of all difficulties. Think, dear, how easy and pleasant your life would be, and how useful, too, for you would help me to do much good with our riches."
But Doris shook her head. She could not accept his offer.
Sinclair went away presently, disappointed for the time being, but determined to try again. The next day he sent his sister to visit Doris, and Alice brought her useful presents of chickens, jelly, cream, and cakes.
"It's so delightful to be rich," she said. "You've no idea how pleasant it is to be able to buy everything we want! Wouldn't you like to be rich, too, Doris?" she asked.
"Yes," said Doris. "Yes, I should. I hate poverty. It is so belittling--so sordid to have to think so much of ways and means! I should like to forget what things cost, and accept everything as unconsciously as we accept the air we breathe."
"And yet you won't be rich," said Alice, with meaning.
Doris coloured a little. "How can I?" she asked, "when there is Bernard?"
"Perhaps he would like to be rich, too?" suggested Alice.
"What do you mean?"