o the sea, or
whatever oblivion you choose to conjure up. Moments such as those
have no place in my life. There is one purpose there more intense than
anything else, that very purpose which by some grim irony of fate it
seems to be within your power to destroy."

He remained silent. Ordinary expressions of regret seemed too
inadequate. Besides, the charm of the moment was passing. The other side
of her was reasserting itself.

"I suppose," she went on, a little drearily, "that even if I told you
upon my honour, of my certain knowledge, that the due delivery of that
packet might save the lives of thousands of your countrymen, might save
hearts from breaking, homes from becoming destitute--even if I told you
all this, would it help me in my prayer?"

"Nothing could help you," he assured her, "but your whole confidence,
and even then I fear that the result would be the same."

"Oh, but you are very hard!" she murmured. "My confidence belongs to
others. It is not mine alone to give you."

"You see," he explained, "I know beforehand that you are speaking the
truth as you see it. I know beforehand that any scheme in which you are
engaged is for the benefit of our fellow creatures and not for their
harm. But alas! you make yourself the judge of these things, and there
are times when individual effort is the most dangerous thing in life."

"If you were any one else!" she sighed.

"Why be prejudiced about me?" he protested. "Believe me, I am not a
frivolous person. I, too, think of life and its problems. You yourself
are an aristocrat. Why should not I as well as you have sympathy and
feeling for those who suffer?"

"I am a Russian," she reminded him, "and in Russia it is different.
Besides, I am no longer an aristocrat. I am a citizeness of the world.
I have eschewed everything in life except one thing, and for that I have
worked with all my heart and strength. As for you, what have you done?
What is your record?"

"Insignificant, I fear," he admitted. "You see, a very promising
start at the Bar was somewhat interfered with by my brief period of
soldiering."

"At the present moment you have no definite career," she declared. "You
have even been wasting your time censoring."

"I am returning now to my profession."

"Your profession!" she scoffed. "That means you will spend your time
wrangling with a number of other bewigged and narrow-minded people about
uninteresting legal technicalities which lead nowhere and wh