now
saw less and less. They had had arguments, in which neither gained any
ground. For the first time in their intercourse, ideas had come between
them, Eda having developed a surprising self-assertion when her new
convictions were attacked, a dogged loyalty to a scheme of salvation that
Janet found neither inspiring nor convincing. She resented being prayed
for, and an Eda fervent in good works bored her more than ever. Eda was
deeply pained by Janet's increasing avoidance of her company, yet her
heroine-worship persisted. Her continued regard for her friend might
possibly be compared to the attitude of an orthodox Baptist who has
developed a hobby, let us say, for Napoleon Bonaparte.

Janet was not wholly without remorse. She valued Eda's devotion, she
sincerely regretted the fact, on Eda's account as well as her own, that
it was a devotion of no use to her in the present crisis nor indeed in
any crisis likely to confront her in life: she had felt instinctively
from the first that the friendship was not founded on, mental harmony,
and now it was brought home to her that Eda's solution could never be
hers. Eda would have been thrilled on learning of Ditmar's attentions,
would have advocated the adoption of a campaign leading up to matrimony.
In matrimony, for Eda, the soul was safe. Eda would have been horrified
that Janet should have dallied with any other relationship; God would
punish her. Janet, in her conflict between alternate longing and
repugnance, was not concerned with the laws and retributions of God. She
felt, indeed, the need of counsel, and knew not where to turn for it,
--the modern need for other than supernatural sanctions. She did not
resist her desire for Ditmar because she believed, in the orthodox sense,
that it was wrong, but because it involved a loss of self-respect, a
surrender of the personality from the very contemplation of which she
shrank. She was a true daughter of her time.

On Friday afternoon, shortly after Ditmar had begun to dictate his
correspondence, Mr. Holster, the agent of the Clarendon Mill, arrived and
interrupted him. Janet had taken advantage of the opportunity to file
away some answered letters when her attention was distracted from her
work by the conversation, which had gradually grown louder. The two men
were standing by the window, facing one another, in an attitude that
struck her as dramatic. Both were vital figures, dominant types which had
survived and prevailed in