“How can I go on, Glory, to the peril of my--It's dangerous, even dangerous.” “Yes, you are a clergyman and I am an actress. You must think of that. People are so ignorant, so cruel, and I dare say they are talking already.” “Do you think I should care for that, Glory?” Her hands came down from her face. “Do you think I should care one jot if all the miserable scandal-mongering world thought----” “You'll think the best of me, then?” “I'll think of both of us as we used to be, my child, before the world came between us, before you----” She was fighting against an impulse to fling herself into his arms, but she only said in a soft voice: “You are quite right, quite justified. I have chosen my lot in life, and must make the best of it.” “Well----” He was holding out his hand. But nevertheless she put her hand behind her, thinking: “No; if I shake hands with him it will be the end of everything.” “Good-bye!” and with an expression of utter despair he left her. She did not cry, and when Rosa came down immediately afterward she was smiling and her eyes were very bright. “Was that your friend Mr. Storm? Yes? You must beware of him, my dear. He would stop your career and think he was doing God's service.” “There's no danger of that, Rosa. He only came to say he would come no more,” and then something flashed in her eyes and died away, and then flashed again. “Yes,” thought Rosa, “there's an extraordinary attraction about her that makes all other women seem tame.” And then Rosa remembered somebody else, and sighed. * * * * * John Storm went back to Soho by way of Clare Market, and when people saluted him in the streets with “Good-morning, Father,” he did not answer because he did not see them. On going to church that night he came upon a group of Charlie's cronies betting six to one against his getting off, and a girl in gay clothes was waiting to speak to him. It was Aggie. She had come to plead for Charlie. “It's the drink, sir. 'E's a good boy when 'e's not drinking. But I ask pardon for 'im; and if you would only not prosecute----” John was ashamed of himself at sight of the girl's fidelity to her unworthy lover. “And you, my child--what about you?” “Oh, I'm all right. What's broken can't be mended.” And meanwhile the church bells were ringing and the cabs were running to the theatres. XIV.