ppened since then," he said jerkily. "I had never seen her
before. There was nothing else."

"I don't believe it, Jim," she declared. "You are hiding something."

He avoided her steady gaze.

"Believe it or not, as you like," he retorted.

"People say there is some secret in your life," she said. "I believe
there is. And I believe it was her secret too."

He lunged forward again, in a fresh paroxysm of fury.

"What is it to you?" he cried shrilly--"or to any one? Why do you pry?
Suppose I have my secrets. They are no concern of yours. I give away my
money--my life. Isn't it enough? What would you be--what would any of
them be now--but for me? I work day and night for others. Can't I keep
my soul to myself?"

"Jim," she said gently, "I'm not prying. I don't want to know your
secrets. I only wanted to make it lighter for you, if you'd let me."

"You can't make it lighter for me," he returned. "No one can make it
lighter. I don't want to be interfered with. I want to be left alone.
What right have you to try to judge me?"

"Judge you?" she echoed. "Who could want to judge you? Why, you are the
noblest man in all the world. No one could do more good than you do.
Every man, woman, and child here worships you, and would die for you."

His anger instantly subsided.

"Ah, yes!" he said greedily--"tell me that. That's what I want to hear.
Tell me they worship me--that no one could do more good than I do--that
men and women would die for me. Go on telling me that!"

Her voice thrilled with her love for him.

"You brought us light and life. You have raised hundreds--as you raised
me--out of misery and filth. Think of all the children you have sent
away from this poison into the green fields and the sunshine--who would
have died."

"Yes! yes!" he cried. "Go on! Go on! All the children...."

"You are building them," she said--her whole being transformed with
tenderness. "You are making them fit to be men and women. They wouldn't
have been fit without you. You are teaching them how to be clean and
happy. You are showing them that they needn't be the dregs of
humanity--that these hovels needn't be their world. You are giving them
new interests, new thoughts, new hopes. Oh, what could be more
wonderful--more splendid? It is God's own work."

"Yes! yes!" he cried again. "God's work! I am doing God's work!"

He paced up and down the room eagerly--feasting on her words--drinking
her praises as an exhausted man might dr