"It is not true that temptation is always a lure. It is oftener a constraint. And you say you can't understand. It is terribly simple. They sin first for a thing which they mistake for love; but after that it is for bread and meat, and surcease from toil which has become a mere frenzied struggle to keep body and soul together. You don't know what it is to be poor, Myra,--with the barriers down. Have you any idea how much Margaret earned last week, working steadily the six days and deep into the nights?" "Oh, not very much, I suppose. But her necessities are not large." "Are they not? They are as large as yours or mine. She must eat and drink and have a bed to sleep on and clothes to cover her. And to provide these she was paid three dollars and eighty-five cents for her week's work; and two dollars of that had to go for rent. Is the temptation a lure or a constraint in her case?" Myra was silenced, if not convinced, and she went back to the fact existent with sympathy no more than seemingly aloof. "You hinted at Margaret's peculiar besetment in one of your letters. Is that what you have to stay and fight?" Constance nodded assent. "I have been hoping you were mistaken. Dick is still loyally incredulous. Isn't there a chance that you or Tommie, or both of you, have taken too much for granted?" Connie's "No" was almost inaudible, and there was chastened sorrow in her voice when she went on to tell how Tommie had seen Jeffard and Margaret together, not once, but many times; how the man was always persuading, and the woman, reluctant at first, was visibly yielding; how within a week Tommie had seen Jeffard give her money. "And she took it?" Myra queried. "She didn't want to take it. Tommie says she almost fought with him to make him take it back. But he wouldn't." Myra's sympathy circled down, but it alighted upon Connie. "You poor dear! after all your loving-kindnesses and helpings! It's miserable; but you can't do anything if you stay." "Yes, I can. I couldn't stay alone, of course, and she will give up her room and come here to live with me. That will give me a better hold on her than I have now." "But if you had a hundred eyes you couldn't safeguard her against her will!" "No; but it isn't her will,--it's his. And he will not come here." Myra's brows went together in a little frown of righteous indignation. "I should hope not,--the wretch! You were right, after all, Connie, and I'll retract all the charitable things Dick wanted me to say. He is too despicable"-- It was Connie's hand on the accusing lips that cut short the indignant arraignment. "Please don't!" she pleaded. "He is all that you can say or think, but my ears are weary with my own repetitions of it." Myra took the hand from her lips and held it fast while she tried to search her cousin's face. But the gathering dusk had mounted from the level of the street to that of the upper room, and it baffled the eye-questioning.