nted to get that promise from me."

"That was one of the reasons," confessed he. "In fact, it was the
chief reason." He smiled at her. "There's nothing I'm so afraid of as
of enthusiasm. I'm going to be still more cautious and exact another
promise from you. You must not tell any one that you have promised not
to interfere."

"I can easily promise that," said Jane.

"Be careful," warned Victor. "A promise easily made is a promise
easily forgotten."

"I begin to understand," said Jane. "You want them to attack you as
savagely as possible. And you don't want them to get the slightest
hint of your plan."

"A good guess," admitted Victor. He looked at her gravely.
"Circumstances have let you farther into my confidence than any one
else is. I hope you will not abuse it."

"You can rely upon me," said Jane. "I want your friendship and your
respect as I never wanted anything in my life before. I'm not afraid to
say these things to you, for I know I'll not be misunderstood."

Victor's smile thrilled her again. "You were born one of us," he said.
"I felt it the first time we talked together."

"Yes. I do want to be somebody," replied the girl. "I can't content
myself in a life of silly routine ... can't do things that have no
purpose, no result. And if it wasn't for my father I'd come out openly
for the things I believe in. But I've got to think of him. It may be
a weakness, but I couldn't overcome it. As long as my father lives I'll
do nothing that would grieve him. Do you despise me for that?"

"I don't despise anybody for anything," said Victor. "In your place I
should put my father first." He laughed. "In your place I'd probably
be a Davy Hull or worse. I try never to forget that I owe everything
to the circumstances in which I was born and brought up. I've simply
got the ideas of my class, and it's an accident that I am of the class
to which the future belongs--the working class that will possess the
earth as soon as it has intelligence enough to enter into its kingdom."

"But," pursued Jane, returning to herself, "I don't intend to be
altogether useless. I can do something and he--my father, I
mean--needn't know. Do you think that is dreadful?"

"I don't like it," said Victor. But he said it in such a way that she
did not feel rebuked or even judged.

"Nor do I," said she. "I'd rather lead the life I wish to lead--say
the things I believe--do the things I believe in--all openly. But