"No. A modern corporation has no soul, and the man who serves this master must sell both body and soul for the wages he receives. I am a lawyer of the old school. My work is illumined by imagination. My business is to enforce justice in the relations of men." "But some of the greatest lawyers in America are corporation attorneys----" "All the reason more why I should keep clean. Lawyers once constituted our aristocracy of brain and culture." "But, Jim, you could prevent injustice by your will and ability!" "Nonsense, Nan. It's the kind of work you have to do. The very nature of it excludes an ideal. Its only standard is gold--hard, ringing metallic gold! I can't prostitute my talents to a work I don't believe in. A man's work is a revelation of what he is. And what he is will depend at last on what he does." A frown of impatience had steadily grown in the girl's face and the curves of her lips hardened with sudden determination. "But you mean to be rich and powerful, Jim?" "If it comes with the growth of manhood and character, yes. But I will not degrade myself with work I hate, or take orders from men I despise. The world is already full of such slaves. I mean to make one less, not one more of them." "You know I don't wish you to be degraded," Nan broke in, earnestly. "I want you to be great." "Then, don't forget, sweetheart, that it's the great man who can be content now with a fair share of money. It requires more stamina, more character, more manhood to live a sane, decent life in this town to-day than it does to become a millionaire." "But I want you to be ambitious, Jim!" the girl exclaimed, passionately. "I am ambitious--for big things--the biggest things. For that reason it will take more than a child's rattle to satisfy me, though it's made of gold. I must have the real thing--the thing inside. I hope to have the applause of the world, but the thing I must have is the approval of my better self--can't you understand, Nan?" Stuart paused and laid his hand gently on the girl's white round arm, and she turned with a start. "I didn't hear your last sentence, Jim----" "Of what were you thinking?" "Of what a woman is always thinking. Consciously or unconsciously, of my home--whether it shall be a hovel or a palace." "It all depends on whether Love is the builder----" "It all depends on the man I marry," was the laughing answer. "I've always dreamed of you as a man of wealth and power. Your splendid talents mean this. When you came to New York I was more sure of you than ever. You've simply got to make money, Jim! Nothing else counts in the world to-day. I hate poverty--I fear it--I loathe it! Money is the badge of success, the symbol of power. Nothing else counts." "And yet," the lover said, drawing closer, "I hold the touch of your little finger of greater value than all the gold on the earth or beneath it."