Selma laughed derisively. "He hasn't the courage--or
the honesty."

"Well--'patience and shuffle the cards,' as Sancho Panza says. We're
winning Remsen City. And our friends are winning a little ground here,
and a little there and a little yonder--and soon--only too soon--this
crumbling false politics will collapse and disappear. Too soon, I
fear. Before the new politics of a work-compelling world for the
working class only is ready to be installed."

Selma had been only half attending. She now said abruptly, with a
fluttering movement that suggested wind blowing strongly across open
prairies under a bright sky:

"I've decided to go away."

"Yes, you must take a vacation," said Victor. "I've been telling you
that for several years. And you must go away to the sea or the
mountains where you'll not be harassed by the fate of the human race
that you so take to heart."

"I didn't mean a vacation," said Selma. "I meant to Chicago--to work
there."

"You've had a good offer?" said Victor. "I knew it would come. You've
got to take it. You need the wider experience--the chance to have a
paper of your own--or a work of your own of some kind. It's been
selfishness, my keeping you all this time."

Selma had turned away. With her face hidden from him she said, "Yes, I
must go."

"When?" said Victor.

"As soon as you can arrange for some one else."

"All right. I'll look round. I've no hope of finding any one to take
your place, but I can get some one who will do."

"You can train any one," said Selma. "Just as you trained me."

"I'll see what's to be done," was all he said.

A week passed--two weeks. She waited; he did not bring up the subject.
But she knew he was thinking of it; for there had been a change in his
manner toward her--a constraint, a self-consciousness theretofore
utterly foreign to him in his relations with any one. Selma was
wretched, and began to show it first in her appearance, then in her
work. At last she burst out:

"Give that article back to me," she cried. "It's rotten. I can't
write any more. Why don't you tell me so frankly? Why don't you send
me away?"

"You're doing better work than I am," said he. "You're eager to be
off--aren't you? Will you stay a few days longer? I must get away to
the country--alone--to get a fresh grip on myself. I'll come back as
soon as I can, and you'll be free. There'll be no chance for vacations
after you're gone."

"Very well,"