Mary Turner spent less than an hour in that mysteriouslyimportant engagement with Dick Gilder, of which she had spoken toAggie. After separating from the young man, she went alone downBroadway, walking the few blocks of distance to SigismundHarris's office. On a corner, her attention was caught by theforlorn face of a girl crossing into the side street. A closerglance showed that the privation of the gaunt features wasemphasized by the scant garments, almost in tatters. Instantly,Mary's quick sympathies were aroused, the more particularly sincethe wretched child seemed of about the age she herself had beenwhen her great suffering had befallen. So, turning aside, shesoon caught up with the girl and spoke an inquiry.

　　It was the familiar story, a father out of work, a sick mother, abrood of hungry children. Some confused words of distressrevealed the fact that the wobegone girl was even then fightingthe final battle of purity against starvation. That she stillfought on in such case proved enough as to her decency of nature,wholesome despite squalid surroundings. Mary's heart was deeplymoved, and her words of comfort came with a simple sincerity thatwas like new life to the sorely beset waif. She promised tointerest herself in securing employment for the father, such careas the mother and children might need, along with a propersituation for the girl herself. In evidence of her purpose, shetook her engagement-book from her bag, and set down the streetand number of the East Side tenement where the family possessedthe one room that mocked the word home, and she gave a banknoteto the girl to serve the immediate needs.

　　When she went back to resume her progress down Broadway, Maryfelt herself vastly cheered by the warm glow within, which is thereward of a kindly act, gratefully received. And, on thisparticular morning, she craved such assuagement of her spirit,for the conscience that, in spite of all her misdeeds, stilllived was struggling within her. In her revolt against a worldthat had wantonly inflicted on her the worst torments, MaryTurner had thought that she might safely disregard thoseprinciples in which she had been so carefully reared. She hadbelieved that by the deliberate adoption of a life of guilewithin limits allowed by the law, she would find solace for herwants, while feeling that thus she avenged herself in some slightmeasure for the indignities she had undergone unjustly. Yet, asthe days passed, days of success as far as her scheming wasconcerned, this brilliant woman, who had tried to deem herselfunscrupulous, found that lawlessness within the law failed tosatisfy something deep within her soul. The righteousness thatwas her instinct was offended by the triumphs achieved through sodevious devices, though she resolutely set her will to suppressany spiritual rebellion.

　　There was, as well, another grievance of her nature, yet moresubtle, infinitely more painful. This lay in her craving fortenderness. She was wholly woman, notwithstanding the virilityof her intelligence, its audacity, its aggressiveness. She had aheart yearning for the multitudinous affections that are theprerogative of the feminine; she had a heart longing for love, toreceive and to give in full measure.... And her life was barren.

　　Since the death of her father, there had been none on whom shecould lavish the great gifts of her tenderness. Through the daysof her working in the store, circumstances had shut her out fromall association with others congenial. No need to rehearse theimpossibilities of companionship in the prison life. Since then,the situation had not vitally improved, in spite of her betterworldly condition. For Garson, who had saved her from death, shefelt a strong and lasting gratitude--nothing that relieved thelonging for nobler affections. There was none other with whomshe had any intimacy except that, of a sort, with Aggie Lynch,and by no possibility could the adventuress serve as an object ofdeep regard. The girl was amusing enough, and, indeed, a mostlikable person at her best. But she was, after all, ashallow-pated individual, without a shred of principle of anysort whatsoever, save the single merit of unswerving loyalty toher "pals." Mary cherished a certain warm kindliness for thefirst woman who had befriended her in any way, but beyond thisthere was no finer feeling.

　　Nevertheless, it is not quite accurate to say that Mary Turnerhad had no intimacy in which her heart might have been seriouslyengaged. In one instance, of recent happening, she had been muchin association with a young man who was of excellent standing inthe world, who was of good birth, good education, of delightfulmanners, and, too, wholesome and agreeable beyond the most of hisclass. This was Dick Gilder, and, since her companionship withhim, Mary had undergone a revulsion greater than ever beforeagainst the fate thrust on her, which now at last she had chosento welcome and nourish by acquiescence as best she might.

　　Of course, she could not waste tenderness on this man, for shehad deliberately set out to make him............