life approaches such a life in usefulness. The mother
comes ahead of the nun.

"'But if the average woman does not marry and become the mother of
enough healthy children to permit the increase of the race; and if the
average man does not marry in times of peace and do his full duty in
war if need arises, then the race is decadent and should be swept
aside to make room for a better one.

"'Only that nation has a future whose sons and daughters recognise and
obey the primary laws of their racial being!'"

He closed the book and laid it on the piano.

"Now," he said, "either we're really a rotten and decadent race, and
might as well behave like one, or we're sound and sane."

Something unusual in his voice--in the sudden grim whiteness of his
face--disturbed Palla.

"I want you to marry me," he said. "You care for no other man. And if
you don't love me enough to do it, you'll learn to afterward."

"Jim," she said gently, and now rather white herself, "that is an
outrageous thing to say to me. Don't you realise it?"

"I'm sorry. But I love you--I need you so that I'm fit for nothing else.
I can't keep my mind on my work; I can't think of anybody--anything
but you.... If you didn't care for me more or less I wouldn't come
whining to you. I wouldn't come now until I'd entirely won your
heart--except that--if I did--and if you refused me marriage and
offered the other thing--I'd be about through with everything! And
I'd know damned well that the nation wasn't worth the powder to blow
it to hell if such women as you betray it!"

The girl flushed furiously; but her voice seemed fairly under
control.

"Hadn't you better go, Jim, before you say anything more?"

"Will you marry me?"

"No."

He stood up very straight, unstirring, for a long time, not looking at
her.

Then he said "good-bye," in a low voice, and went out leaving her
quite pale again and rather badly scared.

As the lower door closed, she sprang to the landing and called his
name in a frightened voice that had no carrying power.

* * * * *

Later she telephoned to his several clubs. At eleven she called each
club again; and finally telephoned to his house.

At midnight he had not telephoned in reply to the messages she had
left requesting him to call her.

Her anxiety had changed to a vague bewilderment. Her dismayed
resentment at what he had said to her was giving place to a strange
and unaccustomed