murmured stroking her hair.

"I ought to have known from the first that it was impossible for us to
be happy. Why did I ever marry him? He said he loved me, and I let
myself be badgered into it," Selma answered through her tears. "Well,
it's all over now," she added, sitting up and drying her eyes. "He has
given me back my liberty. I am a free woman."

"Yes, dear, if you are perfectly sure of yourself, there is only one
course to pursue. Only you should consider the matter solemnly. Perhaps
in a few days, after he has apologized and shown proper contrition, you
might feel willing to give him another chance."

Selma was unprepared for Mrs. Earle's sentimentality. "Surely," she
exclaimed with tragic earnestness, "you wouldn't have me live with him
after what occurred? Contrition? He said everything he could think of to
get me to stay, but I made my decision then and there."

Mrs. Earle put her own handkerchief to her eyes. "Women have forgiven
such things; but I respect you all the more for not being weak. I know
how you feel. It is hard to do, but if I had it to do over again, I
would act just the same--just the same. It's a serious responsibility to
encourage any one to desert a home, but under the circumstances I would
not live with him another minute, my child--not another minute."
Thereupon Mrs. Earle protruded her bosom to celebrate the triumph of
justice in her own mental processes over conventional and maudlin
scruples. "You will apply for a divorce, I suppose?"

"I have not considered that. All I care for is never to see him again."