e to him, partly worthy, but wholly
unreasonable.

"I ain't no wooden-head, as some thinks I am," he blurted out, while his
dull eyes flashed; "and, by gosh, I want that darn well understood
between you and me, Mr. Gaston! I don't want any interference in my
affairs; but as to what you're drivin' at, perhaps, I'll say this. I'm
going to let Joyce have her head--in reason."

"You better," Gaston laughed unpleasantly. He rather liked Jude the
better for his uprising; but he had no intention of showing a flag of
truce now.

"Why?" asked Lauzoon; the laugh irritated him.

"Oh, it's plain common sense to be with her, instead of against her,
when she gets fully awake. Her kind goes well enough in harness if the
other one pulls a fair share--if he doesn't--why, the chances are--she'd
break the traces and--clip it alone."

"Alone, hey?" It was Jude's turn to laugh now. "You ain't got the lay of
the country yet, Mr. Gaston, not so far as the women is concerned. How
in thunder is a woman to go alone, I'd like to know, in St. Ange? Once
she's married, she's married, and she knows it. Go alone? I'd like to
know where she'd go to?"

A breeze was now stirring outside. Gaston felt it and he shivered
slightly.

"Jude," he continued after a moment, "they sometimes go to the devil,
you know. Even St. Ange's ideals do not prevent that, judging from
things I've heard."

"Not her kind," Jude muttered. He was harking back to Lola Laval. How
the girl rose and haunted him to-night! "Not her kind, Mr. Gaston."

"No, you're right, Jude--not her kind as she is now. That's just the
point. It's poor work, though, to draw on your bank account without
noting how your balance stands. If you do, you'll get a surprise some
day. Joyce wants the best she can get out of life. She's had a vision,
poor little girl, and she's making for that vision, believing it a
reality. We all do that, old man, and it's up to you to give her as much
of what she wants as you can. She's been building a place for her
soul"--Gaston was thinking aloud. Jude had vanished from his
horizon--"and she's going up to take possession some day. God, how that
woman is going to love--something!"

And just then Jude shifted into view again upon the line of Gaston's
perceptions. He had risen to his feet and was glaring at his companion.
There was an ugly look on his face, and his hands trembled with the
effort he made to restrain himself.

"Say, Mr. Gaston," he blurted out, "