"You see," he concluded, "I was morally certain that, if the operation succeeded, the fellow would be worse than useless in this world. Now it's coming true. Of course _I_ have no responsibility; I did what any other doctor should have done, I suppose; and, if it had been an ordinary hospital case, I don't suppose that I should have thought twice about it. But you see that I--this woman has got her load of misery saddled on her, perhaps for life, and partly through me." "I think she did right," the girl responded quickly, looking at the case from an entirely different side. "I am not sure of that," Sommers retorted brusquely. "What kind of a woman is she?" the girl inquired with interest, ignoring his last remark. "I don't think I could make you understand her. I don't myself now." "Is she pretty?" "I don't know. She makes you see her always." The girl moved as if the evening wind had touched her, and put on her hat. "She's a desperately literal woman, primitive, the kind you never meet--well, out here. She has a thirst for happiness, and doesn't get a drop." "She must be common, or she wouldn't have married that man," Miss Hitchcock commented in a hard tone. She rose, and without discussion they took the path that led along the bluff to the cottages. "I didn't think so," the doctor answered positively. "And if you knew her, you wouldn't think so." After a moment he said tentatively, "I wish you could meet her." "I should be glad to," Miss Hitchcock replied sweetly, but without interest. Sommers realized the instant he had spoken that he had made a mistake, that his idea was a purely conventional one. The two women could have nothing but their sex in common, and that common possession was as likely to be a ground for difference as for agreement. It was always useless to bring two people of different classes together. Three generations back the families of these two women were probably on the same level of society. And, as woman to woman, the schoolteacher, who travelled the dreary path between the dingy cottage and the Everglade School, was as full of power and beauty as this velvety specimen of plutocracy. It was sentimental, however, to ignore the present facts. Evidently Miss Hitchcock had followed the same line of reasoning, for when she spoke again she referred distantly to Mrs. Preston. "Those people--teachers--have their own clubs and society. Mrs. Bannerton was a teacher in the schools before she was married. Do you know Mrs. Bannerton?" "I have met Mrs. Bannerton," Sommers answered indifferently.