You may force me from this house, you may plunge me into poverty, into contumely, but you shall never make me look upon myself as other than the wife of this good man, whom I have wronged but will never disgrace." "Madam," declared the inflexible secretary with a derisive appreciation which bowed her once proud head upon her shamed breast, "you are all I thought you when I took you from Crabbe's back-pantry in Boone to make you the honor and glory of a life which I knew then, as well as I do now, would not long run in obscure channels." It was a sarcasm calculated to madden the proud man who, only a few minutes before, had designated the object of it by the sacred name of wife.

But beyond a hasty glance at the woman it had bowed almost to the ground, the mayor gave no evidence of feeling either its force or assumption.

Other thoughts were in his mind than those roused by jealous anger.

"How old were you then ?" he demanded with alarming incongruity.
The secretary started.

He answered, however, calmly enough: "I?
Seven years ago I was twenty-five.