_knows_ she has done her best to bring things right--according to her
judgment of right; and she _does hate_ to acknowledge her foolishness!
She will "hold fast her own integrity" as long as there is a shred of it
left! Don't I know? Didn't I do exactly the same thing? Of course. But
the pressure of the great spirit of love, wisdom, justice, was too much
for me; I _had_ to give up my judgment; I _had_ to acknowledge that
there _must_ be the same spirit expressing in my husband's judgment; I
_had_ to let go, be still and get at _his_ point of view. Jane, too,
will have to do it. And the fact that that article "worried her to an
extent she is ashamed of," is the proof. When Truth presses her point we
worry until we can hold out no longer; then we give in.

One of the other two critics writes that over that article she "shed
the first tears in over seven years." Then she asks me if I don't think
I was a "little hard on the Taurus woman," and goes on to reveal plainly
that her tears were those of _self-pity._ Don't I know? Haven't I shed
quarts of such tears? Of course. But not more than an ounce or two were
shed after I gave up my own way. But this second critic is arriving just
as I did, and as Jane will--arriving all unconsciously to herself. Her
letter sounds like a chapter from my own thinking of a dozen years ago.
She gives a bird's eye view of her husband--no, of her husband's
_faults_; she tells how she reads new thought literature on the
sly--just as I did; and she winds up with this _piece_ of good advice:

"I will say to such, live your own life as God intended you to,
regardless of the fact of your husband. Be brave, hope, will and pray.
Dress, look sweet. If your husband tells you he doesn't care how you
look but to not come near him with your foolishness, as mine does, why,
let him live his life in his own way, make home attractive for your own
sake, read good books; and in time books will be your chum."