actual Son of God you're prepared to doubt. It's only because
you labour under the misapprehension--as nearly everybody
does--that marriage is a convenience to a woman. It's the
inconvenience of the thing that makes the morality or the immorality
in your mind. You're only a conventionalist like everybody
else-you're not a moralist."

Yet, notwithstanding all these arguments of Janet's, there were dark
moments during that week before she left Kew, when all the force of
dogma, all the waves of conventionality, beat against her breast;
but it was her faith in love that held her to the end; just as his
faith in the dogma itself, had held the Rev. Samuel Bishop to the
teachings of his Church. Love, she made the high altar of her worship;
to that, unconsciously, she offered all prayers, made all sacrifice.
These dark moments hung heavy in her heart so long as they were
present; but one meeting with Traill was sufficient to drive them
in a body from her mind--gloomy phantoms of imagination which, in
the night, have vivid reality, and with the first welcome break of
morning are stricken out of sight.

When forty-five of the sixty pounds had been spent and she had bought
every conceivable thing that she required, purchasing from habit
where things were cheapest, she had brought the remainder back to
Traill.

He held her face, crumpling it, in his hands.

"What on earth sort of a child are you?" he asked.

"How do you mean?"

"Why--I give you a certain amount of money to spend on clothes and
you bring me back fifteen pounds like the little girl coming back
with change from the grocer's."

"But I've got everything I want," she replied, laughing.

"Have you got an opera cloak?"

"No, I don't want that."

"Have you got an umbrella?"

She laughed again--head thrown back, like a child at its father's
knee.

"No, I have one of my own already."

"Did you get a--get a--oh, I don't know--did you get boots for
tramping through the country with--boots for show, boots for wear,
boots for comfort? How many pair of boots _did_ you get?"

"Two."

"Well--go and get some more and an opera cloak--to-morrow evening,
we're going to sit in the Comedie Francais and not understand a word
that's said."

Then they had gone abroad, and life--wonderful--had passed from day
to day like a pageant before Sally's eyes. The dark moments came with
less frequency. After a time, they passed away altogether. She saw
no end to it; she saw no