less child I was."

Lydia clenched her thin hands and went on passionately: "I would rather
my children went ragged and hungry than to be starved of real
companionship."

The doctor made a shocked gesture. "But, Lydia, someone must earn the
livings. You are--"

Lydia broke in fiercely: "They are not earning livings--they are earning
more dresses and furniture and delicate food than their families need.
They are earning a satisfaction for their own ambitions. They are
willing to give their families anything but time and themselves."

"Lydia! Lydia! I never knew you to be cruel before! They can not help
it--the way their lives are run. It's not that they wish to--they can
not help it! It is against an economic law you are protesting."

"That economic law has been broken by _one_ person I know," said Lydia,
"and that is the reason I--"

The doctor flushed darkly. The tears rose to his eyes. "Lydia, oh, my
dear! trust me--trust me! I, too, will--I swear I will do all that you
wish--don't turn away from me--trust me--!"

Lydia's mouth began to quiver. "Ah! don't make me say what must sound so
cruel!"

The doctor stared at her hard. "Make you say, you mean, that you _don't_
trust me."

She drew a little, pitiful breath, and turned away her head. "Yes; that
is what I mean," she said. She went on hurriedly, putting up appealing
hands to soften her words, "You see--it's the children--I _must_ do what
is best for them. It must be done once for all. Suppose you found you
couldn't now, after all these years, turn about and be different?
Suppose you found you couldn't arrange a life that the children could be
a part of, and help in, and really do their share and live with you. You
_mean_ to--I'm sure you mean to! But you never _have_ yet! How dare I
let you try if you are not sure? I can't come back if I am dead, you
know, and make a new arrangement. Mr. Rankin has proved that he can--"

At the name, the doctor's face darkened. He shot a black look at the
younger man sitting beside him in his strange silence. "What has Rankin
done?" he asked bitterly. "I should say the very point about him is that
he has done nothing."

"He has tried, he has tried, he is trying," cried Lydia, beating her
hands on the table. "Think! Of all the people I know, he is the only one
who is even trying. That was all I wanted myself. That is all I dare ask
for my children--a chance to try."

"To try what?" asked the doctor challengingly.

"T