I sat down in the vacant chair⁠—gently unclasped the poor, worn, restless fingers, and took both her hands in mine.

“What are you thinking of, Laura? Tell me, my darling⁠—try and tell me what it is.”

She struggled with herself, and raised her eyes to mine. “I can’t feel happy,” she said, “I can’t help thinking⁠—” She stopped, bent forward a little, and laid her head on my shoulder, with a terrible mute helplessness that struck me to the heart.

“Try to tell me,” I repeated gently; “try to tell me why you are not happy.”

“I am so useless⁠—I am such a burden on both of you,” she answered, with a weary, hopeless sigh. “You work and get money, Walter, and Marian helps you. Why is there nothing I can do? You will end in liking Marian better than you like me⁠—you will, because I am so helpless! Oh, don’t, don’t, don’t treat me like a child!”