"Why do you come?" asked Joan.

"Oh, I!" answered the girl. "I go everywhere where there's a chance of
picking up a swell husband. They've got to come to these shows, they
can't help themselves. One never knows what incident may give one one's
opportunity."

Joan shot a glance. The girl was evidently serious.

"You think it would prove a useful alliance?" she suggested.

"It would help, undoubtedly," the girl answered. "I don't see any other
way of getting hold of them."

Joan seated herself on one of the chairs ranged round the walls, and drew
the girl down beside her. Through the closed door, the mingled voices of
the Foreign Secretary's guests sounded curiously like the buzzing of
flies.

"It's quite easy," said Joan, "with your beauty. Especially if you're
not going to be particular. But isn't there danger of your devotion to
your father leading you too far? A marriage founded on a lie--no matter
for what purpose!--mustn't it degrade a woman--smirch her soul for all
time? We have a right to give up the things that belong to ourselves,
but not the things that belong to God: our truth, our sincerity, our
cleanliness of mind and body; the things that He may one day want of us.
It led you into evil once before. Don't think I'm judging you. I was no
better than you. I argued just as you must have done. Something stopped
me just in time. That was the only difference between us."

The girl turned her dark eyes full upon Joan. "What did stop you?" she
demanded.

"Does it matter what we call it?" answered Joan. "It was a voice."

"It told me to do it," answered the girl.

"Did no other voice speak to you?" asked Joan.

"Yes," answered the girl. "The voice of weakness."

There came a fierce anger into the dark eyes. "Why did you listen to
it?" she demanded. "All would have been easy if you hadn't."

"You mean," answered Joan quietly, "that if I had let your mother die and
had married your father, that he and I would have loved each other to the
end; that I should have helped him and encouraged him in all things, so
that his success would have been certain. Is that the argument?"

"Didn't you love him?" asked the girl, staring. "Wouldn't you have
helped him?"

"I can't tell," answered Joan. "I should have meant to. Many men and
women have loved, and have meant to help each other all their lives; and
with the years have drifted asunder; coming even to be against one
another. We cha