"But sincere, Hugh-you still think him sincere." "You seem a good deal concerned about a man you've laid eyes on but once." She considered this. "Yes, it is surprising," she admitted, "but it's true. I was sorry for him, but I admired him. I was not only impressed by his courage in taking charge of me, but also by the trust and affection the work-people showed. He must be a good man, however mistaken he may be in the methods he employs. And life is cruel to those people." "Life is-life," I observed. "Neither you nor I nor Krebs is able to change it." "Has he come here to practice?" she asked, after a moment. "Yes. Do you want me to invite him to dinner?" and seeing that she did not reply I continued: "In spite of my explanation I suppose you think, because Krebs defended the man Galligan, that a monstrous injustice has been done." "That is unworthy of you," she said, bending over her stitch. I began to pace the room again, as was my habit when overwrought. "Well, I was going to tell you about this affair if you had not forestalled me by mentioning it yourself. It isn't pleasant to be vilified by rascals who make capital out of vilification, and a man has a right to expect some sympathy from his wife." "Did I ever deny you that, Hugh?" she asked. "Only you don't ever seem to need it, to want it." "And there are things," I pursued, "things in a man's province that a woman ought to accept from her husband, things which in the very nature of the case she can know nothing about." "But a woman must think for herself," she declared. "She shouldn't become a mere automaton,--and these questions involve so much! People are discussing them, the magazines and periodicals are beginning to take them up." I stared at her, somewhat appalled by this point of view. There had, indeed, been signs of its development before now, but I had not heeded them. And for the first time I beheld Maude in a new light.