Suddenly it seemed to Glory that two women sprang into life in her--one who loved John Storm and wished to live and work beside him, the other who loved the world and felt that she could never give it up. And these two women were fighting for her heart, which should have it and hold it and possess it forever. She looked up at John, and he was smiling triumphantly, “Are you happy?” she asked. “Happy! I know a hundred men who are a hundred times as rich as I, but not one who is a hundredth part as happy!” “Darling!” she whispered, holding back her tears. Then looking away from him she said, “And do you really think I'm good enough for a life of such devotion and self-sacrifice?” “Good enough!” he cried, and for a moment his merry laughter drowned the singing overhead. “But will the world think so?” “Assuredly. But who cares what the world thinks?” “We do, dear--we must!” And then, while the song went on, she began to depreciate herself in a low voice and with a creeping sense of hypocrisy--to talk of her former life in London as a danger, of the tobacco-shop, the foreign clubs, the music hall, and all the mire and slime with which she had been besmirched. “Everything is known now, dear. Have you never thought of this? It is your duty to think of it.” But he only laughed again with a joyous voice. “What's the odds?” he said. “The world is made up for the most part of low, selfish, sensual beings, incapable of belief in noble aims. Every innovator in such a world exposes himself to the risk of being slandered or ridiculed, or even shut up in a lunatic asylum. But who wouldn't rather be St. Theresa in her cell than Catharine of Russia on her throne? And in your case, what does it come to anyway? Only that you've gone through the fiery furnace and come out unscathed. All the better--you'll be a living witness, a proof that it is possible to pass through this wicked Babylon unharmed and untouched.” “Yes, if I were a man--but with a woman it is so different! It is an honour to a man to have conquered the world, but a disgrace to a woman to have fought with it. Yes, believe me, I know what I'm saying. That's the cruel tragedy in a woman's life, do what you will to hide it. And then you are so much in the eye of the world; and besides your own position there is your family's, your uncle's. Think what it would be if the world pointed the finger of scorn at your--at your mission--at your high and noble aims--and all on account of me! You would cease to love me-and I--I----” “Listen!” He had been shuffling restlessly on the pavement before her. “Here I stand! Here are you! Let the waves of public opinion dash themselves against us--we stand or fall together!” “Oh, oh, oh!”