was high--say a hundred millions--does not
change the fact. I refuse to share with the woman I love the price for
which she sold herself, whether the sum be a hundred dollars or a
hundred millions! I can forgive and have forgiven the wrong you've done
me, but I could never share its conscious degradation."

A flush of anger overspread Nan's face.

"Jim, this is stupid pride, the stupidest of all pride, the vainest and
the meanest, the pride of the poor man. It's detestable. I thought you
were greater. There's some excuse for the pride of wealth, but there's
none for the pride of poverty!"

"It's a question of character," was the firm answer. "It cuts to the
deepest issues of life between us. There can be no compromise."

Nan looked at him in despair, her eyes suddenly clouding with tears.

[Illustration: "Nan looked at him in despair"]

"What do you mean when you say give up these millions?"

"Just what I say," he answered quickly.

"But I couldn't throw them into the street, what would I do with them?"

"You can give them back to the people, the public, from whom they were
taken; the people whose labour created their value. That's what an
honest man does when he finds he has wronged his neighbour. The things
we possess come at last to possess us. In a very deep and real sense
they give to us their character. An ermine robe that covers a leper
does not make him a king, but the royal robe at last breathes leprosy.
You can't separate money from the process of its making. It has no
value in itself. It is only a symbol, and always takes a soul from the
hand of its creator. There's not a stone in your palaces whose cement
was not mixed in human tears. The stain of blood is in every scarlet
thread of your carpets, rugs, and curtains. Your magnificent paintings,
your gorgeous furniture, your beds of ebony and carved ivory--do you
think these things possess no soul? Do you think they could not laugh
at me?"

"Surely, you are not such a weakling!" Nan cried, with a flush of
contempt.

"If to hold honour dearer than life is the creed of a weakling, I am
one."

"But you are talking like a mad anarchist. His money was made as all
great fortunes are made."

"So much the worse for our financiers. Civilization must rest at least
on justice or it can't endure."

"But, Jim, no matter what your theories of life or your ambitions,
these millions will make them more powerful."

"It's not true. Not a single great man who