ed in her face. The sentiment, however,
did not prejudice Jean Jacques against her, for he was a sentimentalist
himself. His feelings were very quick, and before she had spoken fifty
words the underglow of his eyes was flooded by something which might
have been mistaken for tears. It was, however, only the moisture of
gratitude and the soul's good feeling.

"Well there, well there," he said when she had finished, "I've never had
anything like this in my life before. It's the biggest thing in the
art of being a neighbour I've ever seen. You've only been in the parish
three years, and yet you've shown me a confidence immense, inspiring! It
is as the Greek philosopher said, 'To conceive the human mind aright is
the greatest gift from the gods.' And to you, who never read a line of
philosophy, without doubt, you have done the thing that is greatest. It
says, 'I teach neighbourliness and life's exchange.' Madame, your house
ought to be called Neighbourhood House. It is the epitome of the spirit,
it is the shrine of--"

He was working himself up to a point where he could forget all the
things that trouble humanity, in the inebriation of an idealistic soul
which had a casing of passion, but the passion of the mind and not of
the body; for Jean Jacques had not a sensual drift in his organism. If
there had been a sensual drift, probably Carmen would still have been
the lady of his manor, and he would still have been a magnate and not a
potential bankrupt; for in her way Carmen had been a kind of balance to
his judgment in the business of life, in spite of her own material and
(at the very last) sensual strain. It was a godsend to Jean Jacques to
have such an inspiration as Virginie Poucette had given him. He could
not in these days, somehow, get the fires of his soul lighted, as he was
wont to do in the old times, and he loved talking--how he loved talking
of great things! He was really going hard, galloping strong, when
Virginie interrupted him, first by an exclamation, then, as insistently
he repeated the words, "It is the epitome of the spirit, the shrine
of--"

She put out a hand, interrupting him, and said: "Yes, yes, M'sieu'
Jean Jacques, that's as good as Moliere, I s'pose, or the Archbishop at
Quebec, but are you going to take it, the two thousand dollars? I made
a long speech, I know, but that was to tell you why I come with the
money"--she drew out a pocketbook--"with the order on my lawyer to hand
the cash over to