ght? What do we mean by right,
anyway? Is there any judge higher than our individual selves, and
don't they tell us pleasure is the chief aim of life and as such must
be right?"

The muscles at the angle of the man's jaw tightened involuntarily.

"But pleasure is not the chief end of life."

"What is, then?"

"Development--evolution."

"Evolution to what?" she insisted.

"That we cannot answer as yet. Future generations must and will give
answer."

"It's for this then that you deny yourself?" A shade almost of
contempt was in the questioning voice.

The taunt brought no change of expression to the man's face.

"Yes."

The woman walked over to a bookcase, and, drawing out a volume,
turned the pages absently. Without reading a word, she came back and
looked the man squarely in the face.

"Will denying yourself help the world to evolve?"

"I think so."

"How?"

"My determination makes me a positive force. It is my Karma for good,
that makes my child stronger to do things."

"But you have no child,"--swiftly.

Their eyes met again without faltering.

"I shall have--sometime."

Silence fell upon them.

"Where were you a century ago?" digressed the woman.

"I wasn't born."

"Where will your child be a hundred years from now?"

"Dead likewise, probably; but the force for good, the Karma of the
life, will be passed on and remain in the world."

Unconsciously they both rose to their feet.

"Was man always on the earth?" she asked.

The question was answered almost before spoken.

"No."

"Will he always be here?"

"Science says 'no.'"

The woman came a step forward until they almost touched.

"What then becomes of your life of denial?" she challenged.

"You make it hard for me," said the man, simply.

"But am I not right?" She came toward him passionately. "I come near
you, and you start." She laid her hand on his. "I touch you, and your
eyes grow warm. Both our hearts beat more quickly. Look at the
sunshine! It's brighter when we're so close together. What of life?
It's soon gone--and then? What of convention that says 'no'? It's but
a farce that gives the same thing we ask--at the price of a few words
of mummery. Our strongest instincts of nature call for each other. Why
shouldn't we obey them when we wish?" She hesitated, and her voice
became tender. "We would be very happy together. Won't you come?"

The man broke away almost roughly.

"Don't you know," he demanded, "it's madnes