school,
in factory and shop. Not until they had been walking in the woods
nearly two hours and Selma was about to go home, did Victor, about whom
both were thinking all the time, come into the conversation again. It
was Jane who could no longer keep away from the subject--the one
subject that wholly interested her nowadays. Said she:

"Victor Dorn is REALLY almost well, you think?"

After a significant pause Selma said in a tone that was certainly not
encouraging, "Obviously."

"I was altogether wrong about Doctor Charlton," said Jane. "I'm
convinced now that he's the only really intelligent doctor in town.
I'm trying to persuade father to change to him."

"Well, good-by," said Selma. She was eager to get away, for she
suddenly felt that Jane was determined to talk about Victor before
letting her go.

"You altered toward me when I made that confession--the night of the
riot," said Jane abruptly. "Are you in love with him, too?"

"No," said Selma.

"I don't see how you could help being," cried Jane.

"That's because you don't know what it is to be busy," retorted Selma.
"Love--what you call love--is one of the pastimes with your sort of
people. It's a lazy, easy way of occupying the thoughts."

"You don't know me as well as you think you do," said Jane. Her
expression fascinated Selma--and made her more afraid than ever.

Impulsively Selma took Jane by the arm. "Keep away from us," she said.
"You will do no good. You can only cause unhappiness--perhaps most of
all to yourself."

"Don't I know that!" exclaimed Jane. "I'm fighting it as hard as I
can. But how little control one has over oneself when one has always
been indulged and self-indulgent."

"The man for you is David Hull," said Selma.

"You could help him--could make a great deal of a person out of him."

"I know it," replied Jane. "But I don't want him, and he--perhaps you
didn't know that he is in love with you?"

"No more than you are with Victor Dorn," said Selma. "I'm different
from the women he has known, just as Victor is different from the men
you meet in your class. But this is a waste of time."

"You don't believe in me at all," cried Jane. "In some ways you are
very unjust and narrow, Selma."

Selma looked at her in that grave way which seemed to compel frankness.
"Do YOU believe in yourself?" she asked.

Jane's glance shifted.

"You know you do not," proceeded Selma. "The women of your class
rarely have sincere