way.

At first regrets were returned to all invitations to evening
entertainments, large or small. Mr. Ridley very well understood why
his wife, who was social and naturally fond of company, was so
prompt to decline. He knew that the excuse, "We are not able to give
parties in return," was not really the true one. He knew that she
feared the temptation that would come to him, and he was by no means
insensible to the perils that would beset him whenever he found
himself in the midst of a convivial company, with the odor of wine
heavy on the air and invitations to drink meeting him at every turn.

But this could not always be. Mr. and Mrs. Ridley could not for ever
hold themselves away from the social life of a large city among the
people of which their acquaintance was gradually extending. Mrs.
Ridley would have continued to stand aloof because of the danger she
had too good reason to fear, but her husband was growing, she could
see, both sensitive and restless. He wanted the professional
advantages society would give him, and he wanted, moreover, to prove
his manhood and take away the reproach under which he felt himself
lying.

Sooner or later he must walk this way of peril, and he felt that he
was becoming strong enough and brave enough to meet the old enemy
that had vanquished him so many times.

"We will go," he said, on receiving cards of invitation to a party
given by a prominent and influential citizen. "People will be there
whom I should meet, and people whom I want you to meet."