Broadway lights accosting gentlemen in evening dress; and the second
reveals her in the country, kneeling beside a dying mother's bed, giving
her promise to remain true to the Christian teachings of her childhood.

And virtue is rewarded, lavishly, as virtue should be, in dollars and
cents, in stocks and bonds, in pearls and diamonds. Popular fancy takes
kindly to rough but honest westerners who have begun life in flannel
shirts, who have struck gold and come to New York with a fortune but
despising effeteness; such a one, tanned by the mountain sun, embarrassed
in raiment supplied by a Fifth Avenue tailor, takes a table one evening
at Hawtrey's and of course falls desperately in love. He means marriage
from the first, and his faith in Leila is great enough to survive what
appears to be an almost total eclipse of her virtue. Through the
machinations of the influential villain, and lured by the false pretence
that one of her girl friends is ill, she is enticed into a mysterious
house of a sinister elegance, and apparently irretrievably compromised.
The westerner follows, forces his way through the portals, engages the
villain, and vanquishes him. Leila becomes a Bride. We behold her, at the
end, mistress of one of those magnificent stone mansions with grilled
vestibules and negro butlers into whose sacred precincts we are
occasionally, in the movies, somewhat breathlessly ushered--a long way
from Hawtrey's restaurant and a hall-bedroom. A long way, too, from the
Bagatelle and Fillmore Street--but to Lise a way not impossible, nor even
improbable.

This work of art, conveying the moral that virtue is an economic asset,
made a great impression on Lise. Good Old Testament doctrine, set forth
in the Book of Job itself. And Leila, pictured as holding out for a
higher price and getting it, encouraged Lise to hold out also. Mr. Wiley,
in whose company she had seen this play, and whose likeness filled the