face to face with the realities of life. The law of compensation
and certainty of facts still hold the balance when the bed-rock of human
existence is reached. One might as well expect the mountains to slip
into the sea, or the stars to pause in their courses to hearken to the
voice of a modern Joshua as a man in love with a vision of beauty, to
listen to ethics.

It was quite evident that somebody had lied. In fact, all men of her
race had been lying from the beginning of time, for what, after all, did
civilization amount to if it were not convincing? Did it ever soothe a
wounded heart, stifle the pangs of jealousy, or was it ample
compensation for the loss of the great prize of life--happiness?

Civilization and blindness were fast becoming synonymous terms, and
there were even moments when one almost fancied one heard the laughter
of the gods. Let the dull brute civilized herd sweep by, all its
moralizing and sophistries could not arouse so much as a single
heart-beat where sentiment was concerned.

The truth of these convictions surged in upon her with overwhelming
force. Had Jack also noted them, she asked herself.

Possibly, but not, perhaps, with the keener intuition of the woman. She
breathed hard. Hot tears of rage, jealousy and disappointment surged to
her eyes. She could endure it no longer--she felt as though she would
stifle. Suddenly she sat bolt upright in bed and then sprang to the
floor, noticing for the first time the pretty little Mexican girl,
Rosita, who at Bessie's summons, had entered and deposited a tray
containing oranges, chocolate and _tortillas_ on the table in the center
of the room.

The dark circles beneath Blanch's eyes and her general appearance of a
disheveled Eve told Bessie how little she had slept.

"I knew you were thinking of her," she said, throwing herself back in
the pillows and stretching her arms. Her eyelids drooped for a moment
over her great violet eyes and she laughed lightly with the contentment
of one whose heart is free.

"Of course I am," returned Blanch, coloring and biting her lip. "What
else should I be thinking of?"

"Do you know, I rather like her," continued Bessie, raising on one elbow
and stretching herself again with the delicious satisfaction of one who
has slept soundly and well.

"And I hate her!" cried Blanch. And seizing Chiquita's dagger which lay
on the table beside the tray, she plunged it viciously into an orange.

X

Things bega