heerfully. "You are your father's own daughter."

"I love power," said she. "And so do you. Only, being a woman, I'd
stoop to things to get it, that a man--at least your sort of man--would
scorn. Do you despise me for that? You oughtn't to. And you will
teach me better. You can make of me what you please, as I told you
yesterday. I only half meant it then. Now--it's true, through and
through."

Victor glanced round, saw near at hand the bench he was seeking. "Let's
sit down here," said he. "I'm rather tired. I slept little and I've
been walking all morning. And you look tired, also."

"After yesterday afternoon I couldn't sleep," said she.

When they were seated he looked at her with an expression that seemed
to say: "I have thrown open the windows of my soul. Throw open yours;
and let us look at each other as we are, and speak of things as they
are." She suddenly flung herself against his breast and as he clasped
her she said:

"No--no! Let's not reason coldly about things, Victor. Let's
feel--let's LIVE!"

It was several minutes--and not until they had kissed many
times--before he regained enough self-control to say: "This simply
will not do, Jane. How can we discuss things calmly? You sit
there"--he pushed her gently to one end of the bench--"and I'll sit at
this end. Now!"

"I love you, Victor! With your arms round me I am happy--and SO
strong!"

"With my arms round you I'm happy, I'll admit," said he. "But--oh, so
weak! I have the sense that I am doing wrong--that we are both doing
wrong."

"Why? Aren't you free?"

"No, I am not free. As I've told you, I belong to a cause--to a
career."

"But I won't hinder you there. I'll help you."

"Why go over that again? You know better--I know better." Abruptly,
"Your father--what time does he get home for dinner?"

"He didn't go down town to-day," replied Jane. "He's not well--not at
all well."

Victor looked baffled. "I was about to propose that we go straight to
him."

If he had been looking at Jane, he might have seen the fleeting flash
of an expression that betrayed that she had suspected the object of his
inquiry.

"You will not go with me to your father?"

"Not when he is ill," said she. "If we told him, it might kill him.
He has ambitions--what he regards as ambitions--for me. He admires
you, but--he doesn't admire your ideas."

"Then," said Victor, following his own train of thought, "we must fight
this out bet