d go
across the desert on my knees for the man who could give it to me!"

[Sidenote: Kisses Classified]

"Perhaps he cares," said Madame, consolingly, "and doesn't show it."

"You can tell by the way a man kisses you whether he cares or not. If he
doesn't kiss you at all, he doesn't care and doesn't even mind your
knowing it. If he kisses you dutifully, without a trace of feeling, and,
by preference, on your cheek or neck, he doesn't care but thinks he
ought to, and hopes you won't find out that he doesn't. But, if he
cares--ah, how it thrills you if he cares!"

Madame's violet eyes grew dim. "I know," she said, brokenly, "for I had
it all once, long ago. People used to say that marriage changes love,
but, with us, it only grew and strengthened. The beginning was no more
the fulness of love than an acorn is the oak tree which springs from it.
We had our trials, our differences, and our various difficulties, but
they meant nothing.

[Sidenote: It May Come]

"I've had almost all the experiences of life," she continued, clearing
her throat. "The endless cycle of birth and death has passed on its way
through me. I've known poverty, defeat, humiliation, doubt, grief,
discouragement, despair. I've had illness and death; I've borne children
only to lose them again. I've worked hard and many times I've had to
work alone, but I've had love, though all I have left of it is a sunken
grave."

"And I," answered Edith, "have had everything else but love. Believe me,
I'd take all you've had, even the grave, if I could have it once."

"It may come," said Madame, hopefully.

Edith shook her head. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"How so? Why be afraid?"

"You see," she explained, "I'm young yet and I'm not so desperately
unattractive as my matrimonial experiences might lead one to believe. I
haven't known there was another man on earth except my husband, but his
persistent neglect has made me open my eyes a little, and I begin to see
others, on a far horizon. Red blood has a way of answering to red blood,
whether there are barriers between or not, and if I loved another man,
and he were unscrupulous----"

"But," objected the older woman, "you couldn't love an unscrupulous
man."

[Sidenote: Like the Circus]

"Couldn't I? My dear, when I see the pitiful specimens of manhood that
women love, the things they give, the sacrifices they make, the neglect
and desertions they suffer from, the countless humiliations they strive
to