"But how could you help it if they were stronger than you?" "At any rate, I'd let them prove they were stronger before I gave in." "Then you don't believe that discretion is the better part of valour?" "No, I don't. Not only isn't it the better part of valour, it isn't any part of valour. Besides, we are commanded to resist the devil." "Then you think the Brick, Tile, and Clay Company is the devil?" "I think it is doing the devil's work, and such meanness and wickedness ought to be exposed and resisted. What's the world coming to if gentlemen go back on their own solemn promises?" "It's very sad, no doubt," Ralph said, with a smile. "But, you see, they are a hundred to one, and, however much right I may have on my side, in the long-run I shall have to go under." "Then you have no faith in justice?" "Not in the justice of the strong." "But if you have the law on your side you are bound to win." He laughed good-humouredly. "Did you ever know any law," he said, "that was not in the interests of the rich and powerful?" "I never gave the matter a thought," she answered. "If you had to spend a month in prison with nothing particular to do," he laughed, "you would give more thought to the matter than it is worth." She laughed heartily at that, and then the subject dropped. A little later in the evening, when they were seated at the supper-table, Ruth remarked-- "Mary Telfer is like a ray of sunshine in the house." "Is she always bright?" Ralph questioned indifferently. "Always. I have never seen her out of temper or depressed yet." "Very likely she has nothing to try her," he suggested. "It's not only that, it's her nature to be cheerful and optimistic. He'll be a fortunate man who marries her." "Is she going to be married soon?" "Not that I'm aware of," Ruth answered, looking up with a start. "I don't think she's even engaged." "Oh, I beg pardon. I thought you meant----" "I was only speaking generally," Ruth interrupted. "Mary Telfer, in my judgment, is a girl in a thousand--bright, cheerful, domesticated, and--and----" "Gilt-edged?" Ralph suggested. "Well, she will not be penniless." That night as Ralph lay awake he recalled his conversation with Ruth, and almost heard in fancy the bright, rippling laughter of Mary Telfer; and for the first time a thought flashed across his mind which grew bigger and bigger as the days and weeks passed away. Would it be possible to put Dorothy Hamblyn out of his heart by trying to put another in her place? Would the beauty of her face fade from his memory if he constantly looked upon another face? Would he forget her if he trained himself to think continually of someone else? These were questions that he could not answer right off, but there might be no harm in making the experiment--at least, there might be no harm to himself, but what about Mary? So he found himself faced by a number of questions at the same time, and for none of them could he find a satisfactory answer.