l time.
Be my wife. I'll work hard for you, and, with God's help and you to
inspire me, I'll get there!"

She listened in silence. His melodious, earnest voice sounded like
sacred music in her ears. It was a glimpse of Heaven that he gave her,
a promise of redemption and regeneration, yet her heart told her that
it was impossible. If she consented, what would the outcome be? One
day, sooner or later, he would regret having married her and would
taunt her with her past. They would not be able to take a step in New
York but some one would point derisively at her.

"It's impossible," she murmured weakly.

"Why?" he persisted.

"Give me time to consider," she pleaded.

"I'll give you until to-morrow."

With that, he released her, and went to light the lamps of the
automobile. It was now quite dark, and it required skilful manoeuvring
to find the right road. The return home was silent; each was engrossed
in thought. At the door of the hotel he merely pressed her hand.

"To-morrow," he whispered.

All night long she tossed feverishly. Sleep was out of the question. In
a few hours she must decide what her future life would be--the petted,
pampered mistress of Willard Brockton, wealthy member of the New York
Stock Exchange, or the wife of John Madison, an interesting but
impecunious newspaper reporter. If she married this man, it meant that
she must relinquish immediately everything she loved--her sumptuous
apartment on Riverside Drive, her automobile, her beautiful gowns, and
gay little midnight champagne suppers in good company. Her life
henceforth would be dreadfully prosaic and commonplace. She would be
comparatively poor, perhaps in actual want. Even if she remained on the
stage, she could not hope to secure good parts. Probably she would not
be able to dress even decently; no one would look at her; she would
have to darn stockings and be content with one hat a season--all this
was a picture depressing and discouraging enough to one who had been
accustomed to all the luxuries money can buy.

On the other hand there would be compensatory advantages not to be
ignored. As John Madison's legitimate wife, she could once more take
her place in the world as a virtuous woman. She could again lift up her
head and look decent people honestly in the face. She would be the
lawful wife, entitled to regard, not the despised paramour, a plaything
to be discarded and thrown aside at a man's whim. Once more she would
be able to