"Is there anything in all these years
that you have not told me?"
"I cannot," she sobbed excitedly. "I am disgraced."
He laughed. "What has disgraced you?"
"A man."
"Good heavens!" he cried, "has somebody been making love to you?"
"Yes."
His face flushed. "Come," he said seriously, "what is the meaning
of this, Anna?"
She told him.
"Why aren't you angry with him?" she complained, drying her eyes.
"You sit there and don't say a word!"
"Do you expect me to be angry with any soul for loving you and
wishing to be loved by you? He cast his mite into the treasury,
Anna."
"I didn't mind the mite," she replied. "But he said I encouraged
him, that I encouraged him _systematically_."
"Did you expect him to be a philosopher?"
"I did not expect him to be a--" She hesitated at the harsh word.
"I'm afraid you expected him to be a philosopher. Haven't you been
kind to him?"
"Why, of course."
"Systematically kind?"
"Why, of course."
"Did you have any motive?"
"You know I had no motive--aren't you ashamed!"
"But did you expect him to be genius enough to understand that?
Did you suppose that he could understand such a thing as kindness
without a motive? Don't be harsh with him, Anna, don't be hard on
him: he is an ordinary man and judged you by the ordinary standard.
You broke your alabaster box at his feet, and he secretly suspected
that you were working for something more valuable than the box of
ointment.
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