ly must," he said, confusedly.

She laid her small, strong hand on his arm--a natural, friendly gesture
with her, and giving no suggestion of familiarity. Even as she was
saying, "Please--only a moment," he dropped back to the seat.

"Well--what is it?" he said abruptly, his gaze resolutely away from her
face.

"Victor was telling me this morning about his talk with you," she said
in her rapid, energetic way. "He was depressed because he had failed.
But I felt sure--I feel sure--that he hasn't. In our talk the other
day, Mr. Hull, I got a clear idea of your character. A woman
understands better. And I know that, after Victor told you the plain
truth about the situation, you couldn't go on."

David looked round rather wildly, swallowed hard several times, said
hoarsely: "I won't, if you'll marry me."

But for a slight change of expression or of color Davy would have
thought she had not heard--or perhaps that he had imagined he was
uttering the words that forced themselves to his lips in spite of his
efforts to suppress them. For she went on in the same impetuous,
friendly way:

"It seemed to me that you have an instinct for the right that's unusual
in men of your class. At least, I think it's unusual. I confess I've
not known any man of your class except you--and I know you very
slightly. It was I that persuaded Victor to go to you. He believes
that a man's class feeling controls him--makes his moral sense--compels
his actions. But I thought you were an exception--and he yielded after
I urged him a while."

"I don't know WHAT I am," said Hull gloomily. "I think I want to do
right. But--what is right? Not theoretical right, but the practical,
workable thing?"

"That's true," conceded Selma. "We can't always be certain what's
right. But can't we always know what's wrong? And, Mr. Hull, it is
wrong--altogether wrong--and YOU know it's wrong--to lend your name and
your influence and your reputation to that crowd. They'd let you do a
little good--why? To make their professions of reform seem plausible.
To fool the people into trusting them again. And under cover of the
little good you were showily doing, how much mischief they'd do! If
you'll go back over the history of this town--of any town--of any
country--you'll find that most of the wicked things--the things that
pile the burdens on the shoulders of the poor--the masses--most of the
wicked things have been done under cover of just such men