We too have seen the lights, and the candles, and the toys; we have admired them, as you have; but we know the reality is not there.

The reality is in the dark streets, where men tramp, looking for work; it is in the rooms where their wives and children live stifled and hungry--the rooms where our working folk die--without having lived." Her eyes, above her pale cheeks, had opened to their fullest extent--the eyes of a seer.

They held Diana.

So did the voice, which was the voice of one in whom tragic passion and emotion are forever wearing away the physical frame, as the sea waves break down a crumbling shore.
Suddenly Diana bent over her, and took her hands.
"I wonder why you thought me worth talking to like this ?" she said, impetuously.
"I liked you!" said Marion Vincent, simply.

"I liked you as you talked last night.