ad 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 that upper world of unrelenti