"Oh, the magnanimous courage of a woman's devotion!" I stopped and looked at her. "It's always the same, irrespective of tribe and nation. She's dauntless, world-defying, utterly self-sacrificing. I hope to God, Doloria, that you won't be among those who squeeze their hearts dry! You've lived away from the world and may not know how plentiful these are; but no day passes without its toll of some woman being silently crucified in her losing fight to save a besotted biped--the lord of her earthly temple. It's only by a streak of luck when their stage is cleared, as Echochee's was!" "That may be all right for clearing the stage," she murmured, "but it doesn't heal the hearts of those who were made to suffer." I had not fathomed the penetration of her sympathy, being satisfied, man like, to let a swift revenge wipe the slate. She seemed to be contemplating what I had said, and when she again spoke her voice was tender as though it had come unbidden from a wistful reverie. "I suppose you're right, Jack. The world I've known, only through books, must be full of such cruelties. I rather dread having to go into it. It seems a pity that I can't always live in--in----" then, with a smile, she asked: "Do you ever dream? I don't mean when you're asleep, but awake--wide awake?" "I rather think I'm dreaming now," I admitted, for a great contentment had fallen about us as we walked beneath the solemn trees. The silence that followed was again stirred by her voice, saying: "You mustn't think me childish, but I've always had a secret gateway to a place--my Secret world--where everything is make-believe, and nothing can be but truth and beauty. Often when Echochee was tiresome, or I was tired, I used to slip away and go there." "I wish you'd take me--won't you?" "Oh, I can't," she quickly answered, stooping for a flower in our path, holding it in both hands and leaning her face above it. "Yes," at last I said, "I've a place like that; but I don't know whether I live there in make-believe, or throwing off the make-believe we have to wear in the world you're going to, I live honestly with myself. If you won't take me to yours, sometime maybe you'll come to mine!" Now, I had no intention of making love to her. We were talking only about secret worlds and day-dreams. "I'm afraid it might be difficult," she answered, dropping the flower and walking a shade more slowly. "Our lives--yours and mine--are cast along such opposite lines, it seems!"