The incredible folly of his dream was laid bare to him.
Despised, distrusted and disgraced, there was no chance that he
might be even a friend to her. She moved in another world, one he
could not reach if he would and would not if he could. All that he
believed in she had been brought up to disregard. Much that was
dear to her he must hammer down so long as there was life in him.
But James--he had fought his way up to her. Why shouldn't he have
his chance? Better--far better James than Ned Merrill. He had
heard the echoes of a disgraceful story about that young man in
his college days, the story of how he had trampled down a working
girl for his pleasure. James was clean and honorable . . . and she
loved him. Jeff's mind fastened on that last as a thing assured.
Had he not seen her with starry eyes fixed on her hero, held fast
as a limed bird? She too was entitled to her chance, and there was
a way he could give it to her.
He turned back to James, who was sitting despondently at the
managing editor's desk, jabbing at the blotting sheet with a
pencil.
Jeff touched the _Advocate_ he still held in his hand. "Did you
read this story carefully?"
"No.
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