and all the world.
Shall I tell you a story, my dear?"

"I would love to hear it," replied Martha, earnestly, gazing into the
eyes of the elder woman.

"Once there was another girl, like you: young, ambitious, innocent,"
began Mrs. Dainton, softly. "She, too, was poor and wretched. But some
people called her handsome. As so many others have done under similar
circumstances, she turned toward the stage. She commenced at the very
bottom in the chorus of a London musical production. The company she was
with came to America, and little by little she progressed, but oh, it
was such hard work and the poverty was so grinding. Her salary was
almost nothing. Soon, in this strange country, she was in debt. The
landlady of her boarding-house was kind for a week or so, but the girl
was hopelessly involved. Then, one day, a note came to the theater. She
opened it, and found inside--a hundred-dollar bill."

"A hundred-dollar bill?" repeated Martha, wonderingly.

"Yes, without a word of explanation. The girl didn't know what to do
with the money. She could not return it. She finally spent it."

"A hundred dollars!" repeated Martha.

"A few nights later came another note. Another hundred-dollar bill. A
third and a fourth followed. Flowers, diamonds, a love-letter, and last
of all--a man."

"A man?" repeated Martha, curiously.

"The man had a fortune. The girl was penniless. She couldn't repay the
money, for she had spent it. The man was kind, courteous,
good-looking--in short, just the kind of man to win a girl's heart."

"And so they were married?" ventured Martha.

"No, my dear." Mrs. Dainton shook her head sadly. "They did not marry.
He gave her everything money could buy, and she, poor fool, accepted it.
When the inevitable happened, when the man left her without a word of
farewell, she reaped the bitterness she had sown. But the experience
gave her renewed energy. She was determined to triumph in spite of it.
And she did. She succeeded. Years afterward she met that man again. She
saw him humble himself a second time before her feet and beg her love
in vain."

"That was splendid," cried Martha, clasping her hands.

"It was the only punishment she could inflict," added Mrs. Dainton,
bitterly, rising to her feet and beckoning to her maid. "He had made her
suffer deeply, and though she had been proud of her success, the
proudest moment of her life was when she publicly humiliated the man who
had deceived and wronged her