"I had my love killed in me, but the desire was there for years and years; the longing for a home of my own and—children, children! After love was gone, after I staggered back to feeling, there were times when I would have bartered myself, as many another woman has, for the rights that _are_ rights. But, since they must come by man’s favour, I was denied and starved. Then the soul died within me, first with longing, then with contempt and hatred. By and by I took to praying, if one could call my state prayer. I prayed to the God of man. I demanded something—something from life, and this man’s God was just. He let me succeed as men do, and this, this is the result!" Jo flung her arms wide as if disclosing to Gavot’s stupid eyes all that his greed ached to possess: her fields and barns; her house and her fat bank account. But the man dared not speak. He seemed to be confronting an awful Presence. He looked weakly at Jo Morey, estimating his chances after she had had her foolish way with him. Vaguely he knew that in the future this outburst of hers would be an added weapon in his hand; not even yet did he doubt but what he would gain his object. "It’s all wrong," Jo rushed on, seemingly forgetting her companion, "that women should have to wait for what their souls crave and die for until some man, looking at their faces, makes it possible. A pretty face is not all and everything: it should not be the only thing that counts against the rest. Why, the time came, Gavot, when a man meant nothing to me compared with—with other things." The fire and purpose died away. The outbreak, caused by the day’s experience, left Jo weak and trembling. She turned shamed and hating eyes upon Gavot. She had let loose the thought of her lonely years. "And now you come, you!" she said, "and offer me, what?" Pierre breathed hard, his time had come at last. "Marriage, Mam’selle. I’m willing to risk it." "Marriage! My God! Marriage, what does that mean to such as you, Pierre Gavot? And you think I would give up my clean, safe life for anything you have to offer? Do men think so low of women?" Gavot snarled at this, his lips drew back in an ugly smile. "God made the law for man and woman, Mam’selle——" "Stop!" Jo stood up and flung her head back. "Stop! What do such as you know of God and his law? It’s your own law you’ve made to cover all your wickedness and selfishness and then you—you label it with God’s mark. But it’s not God’s fault. We women must show up the fraud and learn the true from the false. Oh! I’ve worked it out in my mind all these years while I’ve toiled and thought. But, Gavot, while we’ve been talking something has come to me quite clear. Not meaning to, you’ve done me a good turn.