me that she was of a different faith from mine, and that between
those two faiths there could be no compromise. Some day she must
find out what I thought of her husband's wealth, and the work it was
doing in the world! Some day she must hear my real opinion of the
religion of motor-cars and hand-woven carpets!

13. Nor was the day so very far off. She sat opposite me, leaning
forward in her eagerness, declaring: "You must help to educate me. I
shall never rest until I'm of some real use in the world."

"What have you thought of doing?" I inquired.

"I don't know yet. My husband has an aunt who's interested in a
day-nursery for the children of working-women. I thought I might
help this, but my husband says it does no good whatever--it only
makes paupers of the poor. Do you think so?"

"I think more than that," I replied. "It sets women free to compete
with men, and beat down men's wages."

"Oh, what a puzzle!" she exclaimed, and then: "Is there any way of
helping the poor that wouldn't be open to the same objection?"

That brought us once more to the subject I had put aside at our last
meeting. She had not forgotten it, and asked again for an
explanation. What did I mean by the competitive wage system?

My purpose in this writing is to tell the story of Sylvia
Castleman's life, to show, not merely what she was, but what she
became. I have to make real to you a process of growth in her soul,