"Had I not been the guilty wretch I am," he cried, bursting into an agony of tears, "she would never have died thus. Why? While the front of his mind was busy warning her not to fall into the hopeless miseries of underpaid teaching, and explaining his idea that for women of initiative, quite as much as for men, the world of business had by far the best chances, the back chambers of his brain were busy with the problem of that “Why?” His first idea as a man of the world was to explain her unrest by a lover, some secret or forbidden or impossible lover. But the relief from the strain of her immediate necessities was immense. Cathy got a second job as a receptionist. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face.
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