followed. Flowers, diamonds, a love-letter, and last of all—a man."

"A man?" repeated Martha, curiously.

"The man had a fortune. The girl was penniless. She couldn't repay the money, for she had spent it. The man was kind, courteous, good-looking—in short, just the kind of man to win a girl's heart."

"And so they were married?" ventured Martha.

"No, my dear." Mrs. Dainton shook her head sadly. "They did not marry. He gave her everything money could buy, and she, poor fool, accepted it. When the inevitable happened, when the man left her without a word of farewell, she reaped the bitterness she had sown. But the experience gave her renewed energy. She was determined to triumph in spite of it. And she did. She succeeded. Years afterward she met that man again. She saw him humble himself a second time before her feet and beg her love in vain."

"That was splendid," cried Martha, clasping her hands.

"It was the only punishment she could inflict," added Mrs. Dainton, bitterly, rising to her feet and beckoning to her maid. "He had made her suffer deeply, and though she had been proud of her success, the proudest moment of her life was when she publicly humiliated the man who had deceived and wronged her in the past."

Martha rose to her feet, and held out her hand in sympathy.

"I am so sorry, Mrs. Dainton," she said simply.

"Sorry, my dear child?" repeated Mrs. Dainton, cheerfully. "Why need you be? That was what happened to a friend of mine, and that's why I will not help you or any one else to go on the stage."

"But surely," cried Martha, desperately, "some people succeed without pain and unhappiness?"