it had been standing. She drank a little, pulled at her long gloves
restlessly, and looked at Malling. He knew she was longing to confide
in somebody. If only he could induce her to confide in him!

"Oh, my husband's been a very active man," she said. "Everybody knows
that. But in this modern world of ours one must not walk, or even
run along, one must keep on rushing along if one intends to reach the
goal."

"And by that you mean--?"

"Mean! The topmost height of your profession, or business, of whatever
career you are in."

"You are ambitious," he said.

"Not for myself," she answered quickly. "I have no ambition for myself."

"But perhaps the ambition to spur on another successfully? That seems to
me the truest, the most legitimate ambition of the woman all men worship
in their hearts."

Suddenly tears started into her eyes. She was sitting opposite Malling,
the tea-table between them. Now she leaned forward across it. By nature
she was very sensitive, but she was not a self-conscious, woman. She was
not self-conscious now.

"It is much better to be selfish," she said earnestly. "That is where we
women make such a fatal mistake. Instead of trusting to ourselves, of
relying on ourselves, and of having a personal ambition, we seek always