g to his
conscience. He was not rich. Such rare triumphs as he scored in the
courts could not make him wealthy. A long spell of hard work had caused
a breakdown in his health, and on his physician's advice he had taken a
trip to Europe. In Paris he had run across Paula Marsh whose
acquaintance he had made in America.

He had first met her when she was doing Settlement work in New York's
Ghetto. A consistent altruist, even after he began to practice law, he
did not lose his interest in the splendid organizations which seek to
improve the conditions of the poor. He found Paula the leader of a group
of ardent young women--all girls of easy circumstances, yet willing to
forego social pleasures, and spend their days in congested districts,
visiting filthy tenements reeking with disease-laden air, in order to
alleviate human suffering and bring a ray of comfort to unfortunates who
had almost abandoned hope. This, mused the lawyer, was true
Christianity. He found that Paula had convictions and ideas which were
in sympathy with his own views and this naturally drew them together. As
the intimacy grew Leon Ricaby began to nourish in his heart the hope
that one day he could make Paula his wife, but the wish thus far, at
least, had found no response in his companion. She enjoyed the society
of this man who had struggled and suffered, whose ideals had been
shattered. She admired him for his moral courage in living up to his
principles, but that he expected she might ever be more to him than a
friend had never for an instant entered her thoughts. A good friend he
certainly had been. When her mother died he alone consoled her in her
sorrow, and now that this new crisis had arisen in her life--the sudden
death of her father, necessitating her immediate return to America--he
stood ready to assist her again with his advice and protection.

"Well--where have you been all morning?" she asked lightly.

"Running all over Paris," he answered. "I've seen the house agent and
arranged for the cancellation of the lease of your apartment. I've been
to the steamship office and booked our passages. We sail on the
_Touraine_ next Saturday."

Paula dropped her palette and looked up in consternation.

"Next Saturday--the day after to-morrow?" she exclaimed. "It's
impossible! It will take another fortnight to finish this picture."

Mr. Ricaby shook his head.

"Then the picture must remain unfinished," he said impatiently. "We must
sail Saturday