CHAPTER XVIII.
THE WOMAN.
Only a little brown woman she.
Man of the world and profligate he, Hard and conscienceless, cynical, yet, Somehow, when he and the woman met, He learned what other there is in life Than passion-feeding and careless strife.
There came resolve and a sense of shame, For she made as his motto but "Faith and fame." The world is foolish: we cover truth; We're barred by the gates that we built in youth.
Two were they surely, and two might stay, But she turned him into the better way; His thoughts were purified even when He chafed and raged at the might-have-been; He learned that living is not a whim, For the soul in her entered into him.
He fights, as others, to win or fall, And the spell of the Woman is over all.
Bravely they battle in their degree, For--"The woman I love shall be proud of me!" And the man and woman, the one in heart, May be buried together or hurled apart, But the strong will battle in his degree, For--"The woman I love shall be proud of me!" There were men and women, and music and flowers, and some of the people had intelligence, and I drifted about at the Laffins' party, and rather enjoyed myself.

Of course I wanted to see the woman a fancy for whom had gripped Harlson so hardly.

I had forgotten about her until, with a pleasant and clever person upon my arm, I had found something to eat and had come upstairs again, and released her to another.

I wandered into an adjacent room, and there ran upon Harlson among a group.

I was presented to Miss Cornish.
I do not know how to describe a woman.