"She paused a long time on that, then she went on: 'Some women hold
their own in the world and their men by beauty, others by wit, others by
culture, breeding, and occasionally there's a woman clever enough to
hold her place and her man by wealth. I've got none of these things.
I've got only one great gift of God by which I hold my power. When
that's gone, all is gone. Wise people have told me so. I know it is
true.' She rose slowly, came and stood close beside me. 'It's--it's
this--that I'm still my own. Do you want to--to rob me?"

Leighton paused, staring into the fire.

"That was the time," he said, "I went off on my longest shooting-trip. I
never saw her again." He looked up. Vi was very pale.

"You have been cruel--cruel to me," she said.

Leighton sprang to his feet and started walking up and down.

"I have not," he said. "The trouble with you women is you're forever
wanting to have your cake and eat it, too. If you thought I was going to
comfort you with sophist assurances that there's a way out of paying the
price for the kind of life you've led, you were just wrong. What I'm
trying to do is to give you a prescription for an individual sick soul,
not a well one."

He stopped and pointed at the picture lying on Vi's lap.

"Don't you see where her philosophy helps you? You've got all the
elements of power that she lacked--beauty, wit, breeding, wealth,
and--yes--and mind. She had that, too, but she didn't know it. With all