if she smiled, he
showed such wistful delight that even Julia's cool little heart was
stirred. That he never stirred her in any deeper way, that his kisses
did not warm her, was not a serious trouble to Mark. She would be all
the sweeter to win; he would wake her in his arms to the knowledge that
she loved him! And Julia won, as his little wife, would be dearer even
than the demure and inaccessible Julia of to-day. Mark fed his hungry
heart on love tales; many a man had won a harder fight than his; these
cold, shy girls made the best wives in the world!

Julia began seriously to consider the marriage. She visioned a safe and
pleasant life, if no very thrilling one. Mark was handsome, devoted, he
was making money, he would be faithful to his wife and adore his
children. Julia would have no social position, of course. She sighed.
She would be a comfortable little complacent wife among a thousand
others. She would have her silk gowns, her cut glass; she could afford
an outing at Pacific Grove with the children; some day she and Mark
would go to New York--

No, not she and Mark! She couldn't; she didn't love him enough to sit
opposite him all the mornings of her life, to sell her glowing dreams
for him! She had come so far from the days that united her childhood
with all the Rosenthals--she had not seen Mrs. Tarbury, nor Rose, nor
Connie for years. She was climbing, climbing, away from all those old
associations. And she could climb faster alone!

CHAPTER VII

One warm morning in August, when Miss Toland was stretched out on the
reception-room couch, and Julia, who had washed her hair, was shaking
it, a flying, fluffy mop, over the sill of the bathroom window, a sudden
hubbub broke out in the kindergarten. Miss Toland flung down her book
and Julia gathered her loose wrapper about her, and both ran to the door
of the assembly hall. The children, crying and frightened, were gathered
in a group, and in the centre of it Julia, from the elevation of the
stage, could see Miss Pierce half-kneeling and leaning over as if she
tried to raise something from the floor. While they watched she arose,
holding the limp body of a five-year-old child in her arms.

"What is it--what is it?" screamed Miss Toland, but as every one else
was screaming and crying, and Julia's automatic, "Is she dead?" was
answered over and over again only by Miss Pierce's breathless,
"No--no--no--I don't think so!" it was some time before any clear ide