et.
If you do go to him, I'll never speak to you again."

"That's quite possible; I should expect that," Janet replied
imperturbably. "Whenever one tries to arrange the affairs of people
who cannot arrange them themselves, one must anticipate that sort
of treatment."

"Ah, but you don't understand," Sally pleaded piteously. "He would
hate any interference of that sort. He would hate me through it. We
don't look at the thing in the same light that you do. You make a
business of it. Do you think if I had ever seen it in that light,
I could have done what I have done? You know I couldn't. I should
loathe myself too. I tell you, we love each other. There can be no
question of settlement in such a case as that."

Janet looked at her with pity. It was hard for her to say all that
she intended; but the mind of the revolutionary, however wasted its
cause, has kindred with the mind of God. Justice and truth before
all things is the cry of it, and let suffering be a means rather than
a hindrance to the end.

"Never drown sorrow," Janet had once said from her pinnacle of
enthusiasm, "the dripping ghost of it'll haunt you. Don't drown
it--save it, learn of it."

Now, with a steady hand, she carried that precept into practice. It
might make a rent in Sally's heart; it might bring separation between
them; but she did not hesitate at that. The cause of justice and the
desire for truth have no need of sentiment.

"And how long do you think that love is going to last?" she asked.

"Always; why not?"

"With you, perhaps; but with him?"

Sally looked out of the window across the river. The night that Mr.
Arthur had proposed to her--offering her marriage--danced
flauntingly across her memory. He had been ready to bind himself to
her for the rest of his life. She let the memory go on, with its
mincing steps, back into the dreary darkness of the river from whence
it had come; but she said nothing.

"You can't answer for him?" suggested Janet.

"Yes, I can," she replied impetuously. "Why not always with him?
He'll never marry. He's always said so."

"Yes, but you didn't answer at once. Sally--" Janet put a hand on
her shoulder, "I believe you think you're as good as married. The
way you answered Mrs. Thing-um-i-bob downstairs--Mrs. Hewson--when
she asked you, what we'd both agreed to tell her--that made me begin
to wonder. But you're not married, Sally. He's only your
master--that's all, and if I were you, I'd see that I got