"I have nothing to be ashamed of, have I?" she asks proudly, thinking
of her noble David and his fragrant memory.

"If I am to have a widow I should like such a widow," the man replies.

"I pray God you shall never have one," she vows.

Both are exquisitely happy. Neither can say aught that displeases or
hurts the other. For Esther it is the dawn--the glorious sun rising
out of a winter night. She never had a lover before.

With George Harpwood it is the crowning of an edifice built with
infinitely more pains than the David Lockwin Annex.

The noise of all this is abroad. "The wedding will be private," says
Mrs. Grundy with sorrow. "But the Mrs. Harpwood that is to be will
this winter entertain on a lavish scale. She is devoted to Harpwood's
political aspirations."

"That man Harpwood, if he gets to Congress this winter, will begin a
great career. I wouldn't be surprised to see him President," says one
bank cashier to another.

"Well, he's marrying the woman who can help him most. The labor people
are all on her side."

"When shall the day be, Esther?" the friend of her sorrows asks.

"Let it be the last Thursday of next month at 6 o'clock," she replies,