heart　burn　with　indignation　against　those　who　were　cheerily　sacrificing　the　whole　community　to　their　desire　for　profits　and　dividends　and　graft；　public　and　private。　　But　there　was　also　a　great　deal　of　humorof　rather　a　sardonic　kind；　but　still　seeing　the　fantastic　side　of　this　grand　game　of　swindle。
  Two　paragraphs　made　an　especial　impression　on　her：
  ‘‘Remsen　City　is　no　worseand　no　betterthan　other　American　cities。　　It's　typical。　　But　we　who　live　here　needn't　worry　about　the　rest　of　the　country。　　The　thing　for　us　to　do　is　to　CLEAN　UP　AT　HOME。''
  ‘‘We　are　more　careful　than　any　paper　in　this　town　about　verifying　every　statement　we　make；　before　we　make　it。　　If　we　should　publish　a　single　statement　about　anyone　that　was　false　even　in　part　we　would　be　suppressed。　　The　judges；　the　bosses；　the　owners　of　the　big　blood…sucking　public　service　corporations；　the　whole　ruling　class；　are　eager　to　put　us　out　of　existence。　　Don't　forget　this　fact　when　you　hear　the　New　Day　called　a　lying；　demagogical　sheet。''
  With　the　paper　beside　her　on　the　rustic　bench；　she　fell　to　dreamingnot　of　a　brighter　and　better　world；　of　a　wiser　and　freer　race；　but　of　Victor　Dorn；　the　personality　that　had　unaided　become　such　a　power　in　Remsen　City；　the　personality　that　sparkled　and　glowed　in　the　interesting　pages　of　the　New　Day；　that　made　its　sentences　read　as　if　they　were　spoken　into　your　very　ears　by　an　earnest；　honest　voice　issuing　from　a　fascinating；　humor…loving；　intensely　human　and　natural　person　before　your　very　eyes。　　But　it　was　not　round　Victor　Dorn's　brain　that　her　imagination　played。
  ‘‘After　all；''　thought　she；　‘‘Napoleon　wasn't　much　over　five　feet。　　Most　of　the　big　men　have　been　little　men。　　Of　course；　there　were　Alexanderand　Washington　and　Lincoln；　buthow　silly　to　bother　about　a　few　inches　of　height；　more　or　less！　　And　he　wasn't　really　SHORT。　　Let　me　seehow　high　did　he　come　on　Davy　when　Davy　was　standing　near　him？　　Above　his　shoulder　and　Davy's　six　feet　two　or　three。　　He's　at　least　as　tall　as　I　amanyhow；　in　my　ordinary　heels。''
  She　was　attracted　by　both　the　personalities　she　discovered　in　the　little　journal。　　She　believed　she　could　tell　them　apart。　　About　some　of　the　articles；　the　shorter　ones；　she　was　doubtful。　　But　in　those　of　any　length　she　could　feel　that　difference　which　enables　one　to　distinguish　the　piano　touch　of　a　player　in　another　room　whether　it　is　male　or　female。　　Presently　she　was　searching　for　an　excuse　for　scraping　acquaintance　with　this　pair　of　pariahspariahs　so　far　as　her　world　was　concerned。　　And　soon　she　found　it。　　The　New　Day　was　taking　subscriptions　for　a　fund　to　send　sick　children　and　their　mothers　to　the　country　for　a　vacation　from　the　dirt　and　heat　of　the　tenementsfor　Remsen　City；　proud　though　it　was　and　boastful　of　its　prosperity；　housed　most　of　its　inhabitants　in　slumsthough　of　course　that　low　sort　of　people　oughtn't　really　to　be　countedexcept　for　purposes　of　swelling　census　figures　and　to　do　all　the　rough　and　dirty　work　necessary　to　keep　civilization　going。
  She　would　subscribe　to　this　worthy　charityand　would　take　her　subscription；　herself。　　Settledeasily　and　well　settled。　　She　did　not　involve　herself；　or　commit　herself　in　any　way。　　Besides；　those　who　might　find　out　and　might　think　she　had　overstepped　the　bounds　would　excuse　her　on　the　ground　that　she　had　not　been　back　at　home　long　and　did　not　realize　what　she　was　doing。
  What　should　she　wear？
  Her　instinct　was　for　an　elaborate　toileta　descent　in　stateor　such　state　as　the　extremely　limited　resources　of　Martin　Hastings'　stables　would　permit。　　The　traps　he　had　ordered　for　her　had　not　yet　come；　she　had　been　glad　to　accept　David　Hull's　offer　of　a　lift　the　night　before。　　Still；　without　a　carriage　or　a　motor　she　could　make　quite　an　impression　with　a　Paris　walking　dress　and　hat；　properly　supported　by　fashionable　accessories　of　the　toilet。
  Good　sense　and　good　taste　forbade　these　promptings　of　nature。　　No；　she　would　dress　most　simplyin　her　very　plainest　thingstaking　care　to　maintain　all　her　advantages　of　face　and　figure。　　If　she　overwhelmed　Dorn　and　Miss　Gordon；　she　would　defeat　her　own　purposewould　not　become　acquainted　with　them。
  In　the　end　she　rejected　both　courses　and　decided　for　the　riding　costume。　　The　reason　she　gave　for　this　decision　the　reason　she　gave　herselfwas　that　the　riding　costume　would　invest　the　call　with　an　air　of　accident；　of　impulse。　　The　real　reason。
  It　may　be　that　some　feminine　reader　can　guess　why　she　chose　the　most　startling；　the　most　gracefully　becoming；　the　most　artlessly　physical　apparel　in　her　wardrobe。
  She　said　nothing　to　her　father　at　lunch　about　her　plans。　　Why　should　she　speak　of　them？　　He　might　oppose；　also；　she　might　change　her　mind。　　After　lunch　she　set　out　on　her　usual　ride；　galloping　away　into　the　hillsbut　she　had　put　twenty…five　dollars　in　bills　in　her　trousers　pocket。　　She　rode　until　she　felt　that　her　color　was　at　its　best；　and　then　she　made　for　towna　swift；　direct　ride；　her　heart　beating　high　as　if　she　were　upon　a　most　daring　and　fateful　adventure。　　And；　as　a　matter　of　fact；　never　in　her　life　had　she　done　anything　that　so　intensely　interested　her。　　She　felt　that　she　was　for　the　first　time　slackening　rein　upon　those　unconventional　instincts；　of　unknown　strength　and　purpose；　which　had　been　making　her　restless　with　their　vague　stirrings。
  ‘‘How　silly　of　me！''　she　thought。　　‘‘I'm　doing　a　commonplace；　rather　common　thingand　I'm　trying　to　make　it　seem　a　daring；　romantic　adventure。　　I　MUST　be　hard　up　for　excitement！''
  Toward　the　middle　of　the　afternoon　she　dropped　from　her　horse　before　the　office　of　the　New　Day　and　gave　a　boy　the　bridle。　　‘‘I'll　be　back　in　a　minute；''　she　explained。　　It　was　a　two…story　frame　building；　dingy　and　in　disrepair。　　On　the　street　floor　was　a　grocery。　　Access　to　the　New　Day　was　by　a　rickety　stairway。　　As　she　ascended　this；　making　a　great　noise　on　its　unsteady　boards　with　her　boots；　she　began　to　feel　cheap　and　foolish。　　She　recalled　what　Hull　had　said　in　the　carriage。　　‘‘No　doubt；''　replied　she；　‘‘I'd　feel　much　the　same　way　if　I　were　going　to　see　Jesus　Christa　carpenter's　son；　sitting　in　some　hovel；　talking　with　his　friends　the　fishermen　and　camel　driversnot　to　speak　of　the　women。''
  The　New　Day　occupied　two　small　roomsan　editorial　work　room；　and　a　printing　work　room　behind　it。　　Jane　Hastings；　in　the　doorway　at　the　head　of　the　stairs；　was　seeing　all　there　was　to　see。　　In　the　editorial　room　were　two　tableskitchen　tables；　littered　with　papers　and　journals；　as　was　the　floor；　also。　　At　the　table　directly　opposite　the　door　no　one　was　sitting　‘‘Victor　Dorn's　desk；''　Jane　decided。　　At　the　table　by　the　open　window　sat　a　girl；　bent　over　her　writing。　　Jane　saw　that　the　figure　was　below；　probably　much　below；　the　medium　height　for　woman；　that　it　was　slight　and　strong；　that　it　was　clad　in　a　simple；　clean　gray　linen　dress。　　The　girl's　black　hair；　drawn　into　a　plain　but　distinctly　graceful　knot；　was　of　that　dense　and　wavy　thickness　which　is　a　characteristic　and　a　beauty　of　the　Hebrew　race。　　The　skin　at　the　nape　of　her　neck；　on　her　hands；　on　her　arms　bare　to　the　elbows　was　of　a　beautiful　dead…whitethe　skin　that　so　admirably　compliments　dead…black　hair。
  Before　disturbing　this　busy　writer　Jane　glanced　round。　　There　was　nothing　to　detain　her　in　the　view　of　the　busy　printing　plant　in　the　room　beyond。　　But　on　the　walls　of　the　room　before　her　were　four　pictures　lithographs；　cheap；　not　framed；　held　in　place　by　a　tack　at　each　corner。　　There　was　Washingtonthen　Lincolnthen　a　copy　of　Leonardo's　Jesus　in　the　Last　Supper　frescoand　a　fourth　face；　bearded；　powerful；　imperious；　yet　wonderfully　kind　and　good　humored　a　face　she　did　not　know。　　Pointing　her　riding　stick　at　it　she　said：
  ‘‘And　who　is　that？''
  With　a　quick　but　not　in　the　least　a　startled　movement　the　girl　at　the　table　straightened　her　form；　turned　in　her　chair；　saying；　as　she　did　so；　without　having　seen　the　pointing　stick：
  ‘‘That　is　MarxKarl　Marx。''
  Jane　was　so　astonished　by　the　face　she　was　now　seeingthe　face　of　the　girlthat　she　did　not　hear　the　reply。　　The　girl's　hair　and　skin　had　reminded　her　of　what　Martha　had　told　her　about　the　Jewish；　or　half…Jewish；　origin　of　Selma　Gordon。　　Thus；　she　assumed　that　she　would　see　a　frankly　Jewish　face。　　Instead；　the　face　looking　at　her　from　beneath　the　wealth　of　thick　black　hair；　carelessly　parted　near　the　centre；　was　Russianwas　Cossackstrange　and　primeval；　intense；　dark；　as　superbly　alive　as　one　of　those　exuberant　tropical　flowers　that　seem　to　cry　out　the　mad　joy　of　life。　　Only；　those　flowers　suggest　the　evanescent；　the　flame　burning　so　fiercely　that　it　must　soon　burn　out；　while　this　Russian　girl　declared　that　life　was　eternal。　　You　could　not　think　of　her　as　sick；　as　old；　as　anything　but　young　and　vigorous　and　vivid；　as　full　of　energy　as　a　healthy　baby　that　kicks　its　dresses　into　rags　and　wears　out　the　strength　of　its　strapping　nurse。　　Her　nose　was　as　straight　as　Jane's　own　particularly　fine　example　of　nose。　　Her　dark　gray　eyes；　beneath　long；　slender；　coal　black　lines　of　brow；　were　brimming　with　life　and　with　fun。　　She　had　a　wide；　frank；　scarlet　mouth；　her　teeth　were　small　and　sharp　and　regular；　and　of　the　strong　and　healthy　shade　of　white。　　She　had　a　very　small；　but　a　very　resolute　chin。　　With　another　quick；　free　movement