sounded more suasive—"the U. P. must see what it

can do in a truly difficult case. And, in the meantime, let me beg you, as much for your own sake as for ours, not to desert the old ship."

A second time Helen's eyes filmed with tears. "I feel," she said, "that I can never work with you again."

The silence which now constrained them was broken at last by the hushed, far-away voice which always seemed to hypnotize her. "Have you realized what it means? Do you quite see all that such a step involves?"

Mournfully she owned that never again did she expect to earn a thousand dollars a month.

"And John Endor, I believe, is by no means a rich man."

Helen believed so too. But she permitted herself a modest hope that she might still be able to earn a good salary.

"In journalism?"

"Yes."

"That, my dear child,"—once more the father,—"is a point on which it really becomes my duty to disillusion you. If you break with us, your career in journalism is at an end."