"Well, look at the life she leads. On the road constantly, living at hotels. A woman can't hold herself up against such things." "It depends upon the woman," was Bradley's succinct protest against sweeping generalizations. It was crisp and clear, and the sound of their feet rang out in the still air as if they trod on glass at every step. They talked very little. Bradley wanted to tell Cargill that he had already met Miss Wilbur, but he could not see his way clear to make the explanation. Cargill was unwontedly silent. The Norwegian girl ushered them into a pretty little parlor, where a beautiful fire of coal was burning in an open grate. While they stood warming their stiffened hands at the cheerful blaze, Ida entered. "Mr. Cargill, this is an unexpected pleasure." "I wonder how sincere you are in that. This is my friend Mr. Talcott." Ida moved toward Bradley with her hand cordially extended. "I think we have met before," she said. "I call him my friend," said Cargill, "because he has not known me long enough to become my enemy." "That is very good, Mr. Cargill. Sit down, won't you? Please give me your coats." She moved about in that pleasant bustle of reception so natural to women. Cargill slid down into a chair in his disjointed fashion. "We came to attend the intellectual sit-down." "Why, that doesn't meet to-night! It meets every other Friday, and this is the other Friday." "Oh, is it? So much the better; we will see you alone." Ida turned gravely to Bradley. "Mr. Cargill is not often in this mood. I generally draw him off into a fight on Mr. Howell's, Thackeray or Scott." "She prefers me in armor," Cargill explained, "and on horseback. My intellectual bowleggedness, so to say, and my moral squint are less obtrusive at an altitude." Ida laughed appreciatively. "Your extraordinary choice of figures would distinguish you among the symbolists of Paris," she replied. This all seemed very brilliant and droll to Bradley, and he sat with unwavering eyes fixed upon Ida, who appeared to him in a new light, more softly alluring than ever--that of the hostess. She was dressed in some loose, rich-colored robe, which had the effect of drapery. "When did you get back?" Cargill inquired, a little more humanly. "Yesterday, and I am just in the midst of the luxury of feeling at home, with no journeys to make to-morrow. I have a friend I would like to introduce to you," she said, rising and going out. She returned in a few moments with a tall young lady in street dress, whom she introduced as Miss Cassiday. In a short time Cargill had involved Miss Cassiday in a discussion of the decline of literature, which left Ida free to talk with Bradley. It was the most beautiful evening in his life. He talked as never before. He told her of his reading, and of his plans. He told her of his election to the legislature. "Ah, that is good!" she said; "then we have one more champion of women in our State House." "Yes, I will do what I can," he said.