her
expression that forbade him to hope for any crumbs of comfort from her
visit.

"Good evening," she said trying to speak in ordinary tones while the
wild beating of her heart made her momentarily faint. "I came, as I
wanted so much to tell you something."

He gave her his seat and leaned against the table looking down at her.
"I think I know why you have come. Not on your own account,--that would
be impossible to you,--but it is on some dear, quixotic errand for
another. You have come straight from--Mrs. Dalton." He could not bring
himself to say, "my wife."

Honor bent her head, looking distressed. Her mission was becoming more
difficult than she had anticipated.

"Honey," he said reproachfully, "don't you think I have done enough?"

"There is a little more you could do," she returned, lifting pleading
eyes to his face.

"For her? Do you think she deserves the half of the consideration she
has received? Other women who have sinned against the law and every code
of honour have been regarded as outcasts from society. Honest women bar
their doors to such as she. I cannot bear to see you with her!--a girl
like you cannot understand--I cannot explain"--he broke off with a
gesture of impatience and helplessness.

"I understand quite well," said Honor lifting her head courageously. "I
feel that life is terribly unjust. There are men who are even worse than
she, and yet their sins are covered, and society allows them to marry
pure, honest girls! Is that right or just?"

It was Dalton's turn to lower his gaze.

Honor continued speaking. She did not allow her maidenly reserve to
stand in the way of her frank denouncement of the injustice of human and
social laws. Very quietly and logically she stated the case while Dalton
with arms folded on his breast, listened, ashamed for himself and his
sex. Before she had finished, he came and knelt beside her chair, and,
gripping the arms of it with shaking hands, humbled himself to the dust.

"We are all a cursed lot of Pharisees!" he cried. "Don't turn away from
me with disgust! Pity me and love me still though I am unfit to kiss the
hem of your skirt." Nevertheless, he bent and pressed his lips to the
border of her gown.

"Ah, don't!" she cried, the tears flooding her eyes. "You and I cannot
think of love any more! It must be friendship or nothing. Today I have
realised as I never did before, that there are higher duties for some of
us, to which we must give the first