e been different. I used to hope for such
things long ago--that a man of high aims and noble purposes would come
to meet me at the gate of life. Perhaps you have felt like that--that
some woman, strong and true, would stand beside you for good or for ill,
in your hour of danger and your hour of joy?"

Her voice was not quite steady--she hardly knew why.

"A dream! We all have our dreams," he said.

"A dream indeed! Men came--he was not among them. They pampered every
wish, indulged every folly, loaded me with luxuries, but my dream was
dispelled. I respected few of them, and reverenced none. They were my
pastime, my playthings. And they have revenged themselves by saying in
secret ... what you said in public this morning."

He was looking at her constantly with his wistful eyes, the eyes of a
child, and through all the joy of her success she was conscious of a
spasm of pain at the expression of his sad face and the sound of his
tremulous voice.

"We men are much to blame," he said. "In the battle of man with man we
deal out blows and think we are fighting fair, but we forget that behind
our foe there is often a woman--a wife, a mother, a sister, a
friend--and, God forgive us, we have struck her, too."

The half-smile that had gleamed on Roma's face was wiped out of it by
these words, and an emotion she did not understand began to surge in her
throat.

"You speak of poor women who struggle and starve," she said. "Would it
surprise you to hear that _I_ know what it is to do that? Yes, and to be
friendless and alone--quite, quite alone in a cruel and wicked city."

She had lost herself for a moment, and the dry glitter in her eyes had
given way to a moistness and a solemn expression. But at the next
instant she had regained her self-control, and went on speaking to avoid
a painful silence.

"I have never spoken of this to any other man," she said. "I don't know
why I should mention it to you--to you of all men."

She had risen to her feet, and he stepped up to her, and looking
straight into her eyes he said:

"Have you ever seen me before?"

"Never," she answered.

"Sit down," he said. "I have something to say to you."

She sat down, and a peculiar expression, almost a crafty one, came into
her face.

"You have told me a little of your life," he said. "Let me tell you
something of mine."

She smiled again. These big children called men were almost to be
pitied. She had expected a fight, but the man had