would condemn us both to a life of unhappiness. We were not intended for
husband and wife, and it is best--yes, more Christian--for us to
separate. We American women do not feel justified in letting a mistake
ruin our lives when there is a chance to escape."

Mr. Glynn regarded her in silence for a moment. He was accustomed to
convince, and he had not succeeded, which to a clergyman is more
annoying than to most men. Still what she said made his plea seem
doubtful wisdom.

"Then you do not love your husband?" he said.

"No," said Selma quietly, "I do not love him. It is best to be frank
with one's self--with you, in such a matter, isn't it? So you see that
what you ask is out of the question."

Mr. Glynn rose. Clearly his mission had failed, and there was nothing
more to be said. Being a just man, he hesitated to pass an unkind
judgment on this bright-faced, pensive woman. She was within her moral
rights, and he must be careful to keep within his. But he went away
bewildered and discomfited. Selma would have liked to dismiss the
subject and keep him longer. She would have been glad to branch off on
to other ethical topics and discuss them. She was satisfied with the
result of the interview, for she had vindicated her position and spiked
Lewis's last gun.

So, indeed, it proved. Mr. Glynn sent for Babcock and told him the naked
truth, that his wife's love for him was dead and reconciliation
impossible. He properly refrained from expressing the doubt lurking in
his own mind as to whether Selma had ever loved her husband. Thus