illed her and drew her toward him. She would
never have guessed that this man who had come from beyond her horizon,
was, in such moments, flashing on beyond her horizon with wider and
deeper concepts. Her own limits were the limits of her horizon; but
limited minds can recognize limitations only in others. And so she felt
that her outlook was very wide indeed, and that where his conflicted with
hers marked his limitations; and she dreamed of helping him to see as she
saw, of widening his horizon until it was identified with hers.

"But I have not finished my story," she said. "He worked, so father
says, as no other office boy he ever had. Mr. Butler was always eager to
work. He never was late, and he was usually at the office a few minutes
before his regular time. And yet he saved his time. Every spare moment
was devoted to study. He studied book-keeping and type-writing, and he
paid for lessons in shorthand by dictating at night to a court reporter
who needed practice. He quickly became a clerk, and he made himself
invaluable. Father appreciated him and saw that he was bound to rise. It
was on father's suggestion that he went to law college. He became a
lawyer, and hardly was he back in the office when father took him in as
junior partner. He is a great man. He refused the United States Senate
several times, and father says he could become a justice of the Supreme
Court any time a vacancy occurs, if he wants to. Such a life is an
inspiration to all of us. It shows us that a man with will may rise
superior to his environment."

"He is a great man," Martin said sincerely.

But it seemed to him there was something in the recital that jarred upon
his sense of beauty and life. He could not find an adequate motive in
Mr. Butler's life of pinching and privation. Had he done it for love of
a woman, or for attainment of beauty, Martin would have understood. God's
own mad lover should do anything for the kiss, but not for thirty
thousand dollars a year. He was dissatisfied with Mr. Butler's career.
There was something paltry about it, after all. Thirty thousand a year
was all right, but dyspepsia and inability to be humanly happy robbed
such princely income of all its value.

Much of this he strove to express to Ruth, and shocked her and made it
clear that more remodelling was necessary. Hers was that common
insularity of mind that makes human creatures believe that their color,
creed, and politics are