Antony Dart bent forward in his chair. He looked far into the eyes of
the ex-dancer as if some unseen thing within them might answer him.
Miss Montaubyn herself for the moment he did not see.

"What," he stammered hoarsely, his voice broken with awe, "what of the
hideous wrongs--the woes and horrors--and hideous wrongs?"

"There wouldn't be none if WE was right--if we never thought nothin' but
'Good's comin'--good 's 'ere.' If we everyone of us thought it--every
minit of every day."

She did not know she was speaking of a millennium--the end of the world.
She sat by her one candle, threading her needle and believing she was
speaking of To-day.

He laughed a hollow laugh.

"If we were right!" he said. "It would take long--long--long--to make
us all so."

"It would be slow p'raps. Well, so it would--but good comes quick for
them as begins callin' it. It's been quick for ME," drawing her thread
through the needle's eye triumphantly. "Lor', yes, me legs is better--
me luck's better--people's better. Bless yer, yes!"

"It's true," said Glad; "she gets on somehow. Things comes. She never
wants no drink. Me now," she applied to Miss Montaubyn, "if I took it
up same as you--wot'd come to a gal like me?"