the maelstrom. It will be interesting; it will be awful. How many of
them do you suppose will win through to their goal?"

Mrs Ingram did not answer his question; she asked another of her own
accord:

"Did you notice," she said softly, "that no one, not one of them--"

"Wished your wish?" he finished for her. "Yes! I noticed!"

He laid his hands on her shoulders, and they stood together, gazing
deeply into each other's eyes.

"But," she sighed softly, "it is the best!"

CHAPTER TWO.

THE GIRL WHO WISHED FOR MONEY.

Claudia Berrington prided herself that if she had many faults, she had
at least one supreme virtue--she was honest! She condescended to no
subterfuges, no half-truths, no beatings about the bush. The truth, the
whole truth, and nothing but the truth fell from her coral lips with a
nakedness which astonished her hearers, and this despite the fact that
few people had less consideration for honesty for honesty's sake. There
was no "I can, because I ought" in Claudia Berrington's composition; her
outspokenness was simply a means to an end. Very early in life her
sharp wits had mastered the fact that honesty was the best policy, and
that to speak the truth was at once to disarm criticism and to avoid the
danger of pitfalls.

To Claudia's supreme delight, she discovered that her adopted virtue was
quite an asset in society. It was so uncommon, so arresting to meet a
girl who _really_ said what she meant, that it made quite a sensation,
when found. People said to one another: "Have you heard Claudia's
latest?" and hung upon her lips in delighted anticipation of shocks.
And Claudia duly shocked them, and enjoyed the process.

Openly, at the New Year's party, Claudia had confessed that the one
overwhelming ambition of her heart was to be rich, and as there seemed
only one way in which a helpless young woman could obtain a limitless
command of money, had declared herself ready to marry the highest bidder
in the market. "A German Jew stock-broker, or a Maharajah of
`something-core,' or a soap-boiler bereft of h's. Anyone will do!" she
had cried, "if he can only give me enough." And in a _tete-a-tete_ with
a girl friend over her bedroom fire the same night, she had repeated and
defended the same statement.

"Ashamed?" she cried, "why should I be ashamed? I'm not a bit! How can
I help my own nature? Most girls put love before everything else.
Well, so do I; but it's love for _myself_. I