uldn't marry you. She is after
bigger game. As far as reforming Henry Fenn's concerned, she's bluffing.
It doesn't interest her any more than Kenyon's lack of a mother."

The Doctor rose and Grant saw that the interview was over. The Doctor
left the youth at the foot of the stairway and went out into the autumn
night, where the stars could blink at all his wisdom. Though he, poor
man, did not know that they were winking. For often men who know good
women and love them well, are as unjust to weak women as men are who
know only those women who are frail.

That night Margaret Mueller sat on the porch, where Henry Fenn left her,
considering her problem. Now this problem did not remotely concern the
Adamses--nor even Kenyon Adams. Margaret Mueller's problem was centered
in Henry Fenn, County Attorney of Greeley County; Henry Fenn, who had
visited her gorgeously drunk; Henry Fenn on whose handsome shoulder she
had enjoyed rather keenly shedding some virtuous tears in chiding him
for his broken promise. Yet she knew that she would take him back. And
she knew that he knew that he might come back. For she had moved far
forward in the siege of Harvey. She was well within the walls of the
beleaguered city, and was planning for the larger siege of life and
destiny.

About all there is in life is one's fundamental choice between the
spiritual and the material. After that choice is made, the die of life
is cast. Events play upon that choice their curious pattern, bringing
such griefs and joys, such calamities and winnings as every life must
have. For that choice makes character, and character makes happiness.
Margaret Mueller sitting there in the night long after the last step of
Henry Fenn had died away, thought of her lover's arms, remembered her
lover's lips, but clearer and more moving than these vain things, her
mind showed her what his hands could bring her and if her soul waved a
duty signal, for the salvation of Henry Fenn, she shut her eyes to the
signal and hurried into the house.

She was one of God's miracles of beauty the next day as she passed Grant
Adams on the street, with his carpenter's box on his arm, going from the
mine shaft to do some work in the office of the attorney for the mines.
She barely nodded to Grant, yet the radiance of her beauty made him turn
his head to gaze at her. Doctor Nesbit did that, and Captain Morton, and
Dick Bowman,--even John Kollander turned, putting up his ear trumpet as
if to hear