I hadn't meant to say much about this. But all of a sudden,--while I stood there speaking to that dressed-up roomful, with all the girls down in front soft and white, and taken care of and promised diamond pendants, it come over me--the difference between them and Rose and the girls there on the back seats. And before I knew I was going to, I began to get outside my oration as I planned it, and to talk about those girls, and about where did their chance come in.... And I finished by begging these girls here, that had every chance to grow, to do something for the other girls that didn't have a chance to grow and never would have a chance. "I don't know why you have it and why they don't," I said. "Maybe when we grow up and get out in the world we'll understand that better. But it can't be right the way it is. And can't we help them?" Some clapped their hands when I was done. There was another oration on "Success," and one on "Opportunity," and then came the judges' decision. It was a big disappointment. I thought the other orations were so wishy-washy, it didn't seem possible mine could have been any more so. But it must have been, because only one of the judges voted for me. He said something about "not so much subject matter as originality of thought." The other two judges voted for Antoinette. That night, by special delivery, she got her diamond pendant. Rose wrote a note on the back of her program. "Oh, Cosma, this is the most wonderful thing that ever happened to the girls. I never knew anybody else ever heard about us or cared about us. We'll never forget." When I got back to the dormitory, somebody was waiting for me in the reception-room, and it was Gerald. He drew me over to a window, talking all the way. "Cosma," he said, "by jove, I never heard anything like that. I say--how did you ever get them to let you do it?... They'd never seen it? Rich--_rich_! You sweet dove of an anarchist, you--" "Don't Gerald," I said. "Ripping," said he, "simply ripping! I never saw anything so beautiful as you before all that raft. You looked like the well-known angels, Cosma. And you ought to see my portrait of you now! You dear!" "Don't, Gerald," I said. He stared at me. "I say--you aren't taking to heart that miserable hundred dollars! Cosma dearest! Oh, I'm mad about you ... this June, ... this June--" "Please, please, Gerald," I said. "Don't you see? Those girls there to-day. They're your sort and your people's sort. I'm not that...." He set himself to explain something to me. I could see it in his sudden attitude. "Look here, Cosma," he said; "don't you understand the joy it would be for a man to have a hand in training the girl he wants to have for his wife?" At that, I looked at him with attention. "Let me be," he went on, "your teacher, lover, husband. Gad, think what it will be to have the shaping of the woman you will make! Can't you understand a man being mad about that?"