he keeping it up, Condy, that makes you WORTH BEING GOOD
when you finally get to be good; don't you think? It's the keeping it
up that makes you strong; and then when you get to be good you can make
your goodness count. What's a good man if he's weak?--if his goodness
is better than he is himself? It's the good man who is strong--as
strong as his goodness, and who can make his goodness count--who is the
right kind of man. That's what I think."

"There's something in that, there's something in that." Then, after a
pause: "I played Monday night, after all, Blix, after promising I
wouldn't."

For a time she did not answer, and when she spoke, she spoke quietly:
"Well--I'm glad you told me"; and after a little she added, "Can't you
stop, Condy?"

"Why, yes--yes, of course--I--oh, Blix, sometimes I don't know! You
can't understand! How could a girl understand the power of it? Other
things, I don't say; but when it comes to gambling, there seems to be
another me that does precisely as he chooses, whether I will or not.
But I'm going to do my best. I haven't played since, although there
was plenty of chance. You see, this card business is only a part of
this club life, this city life--like drinking and--other vices of men.
If I didn't have to lead the life, or if I didn't go with that
crowd--Sargeant and the rest of those men--it would be different;
easier, maybe."

"But a man ought to be strong enough to be himself and master of
himself anywhere. Condy, IS there anything in the world better or
finer than a strong man?"

"Not unless it is a good woman, Blix."

"I suppose I look at it from a woman's point of view; but for me a
STRONG man--strong in everything--is the grandest thing in the world.
Women love strong men, Condy. They can forgive a strong man almost
anything."

Condy did not immediately answer, and in the interval an idea occurred
to Blix that at once hardened into a determination. But she said
nothing at the moment. The spell of the sunset was gone and they had
evidently reached the end of that subject of their talk. Blix rose to
light the gas. "Will you promise me one thing, Condy?" she said.
"Don't if you don't want to. But will you promise me that you will
tell me whenever you do play?"

"That I'll promise you!" exclaimed Condy; "and I'll keep that, too."

"And now, let's hear the story--or what you've done of it."

They drew up to the dining-room table with its cover of blue denim
edg