igious man. The
religious man can not believe that anybody can live a moral life and act
on principle except from the religious impulse.... I suppose he has
warned you against me, hasn't he?"

"Well--yes."

"I'm at a loss to know what I've done to deserve it. But time must
justify me. I am not a religious man myself, you know, though I hate to
talk of it. To tell you the truth, I think the religious idea a monstrous
egotism altogether, and the love of God merely the love of self. Still,
you must judge for yourself, Glory."

"Are we not wasting our time a little?" she said. "I am here; isn't that
proof enough of my opinion?" And then in an agitated whisper she added:
"I have only half an hour, the gates will be closing, and I want to ask
your advice, you know. You remember what I told you in my letter?"

He patted the hand on his arm and said, "Tell me how it happened."

She told him everything, with many pauses, expecting every moment that he
would break in upon her and say, "Why didn't you box the woman's ears?"
or perhaps laugh and assure her that it did not matter in the least, and
she was making too much of a mere bagatelle. But he listened to every
syllable, and after she had finished there was silence for a moment. Then
he said: "I'm sorry--very sorry; in fact, I am much troubled about it."

Her nerves were throbbing hard and her hand on his arm was twitching.

"If you had left of your own accord after that scene in the board room,
it would have been so different--so easy for me to help you!"

"How?"

"I should have spoken to my chief--he is a governor of many
hospitals--and said, 'A young friend of mine, a nurse, is uncomfortable
in her present place and would like to change her hospital.' It would
have been no sooner said than done. But now--now there is the black book
against you, and God knows if... In fact, somebody has laid a trap for
you, Glory, intending to get rid of you at the first opportunity, and you
seem to have walked straight into it."

She felt stunned. "He has forgotten all he has said to me," she thought.
In a feeble, expressionless voice she asked:

"But what am I to do now?"

"Let me think."

They walked some steps in silence. "He is turning it over," she thought.
"He will tell me how to begin."

He stopped, as if seized by a new idea.

"Did you tell them where you had been?"

"No," she replied, in the same weak voice.

"But why not do so? There is hope in that. The chapla