"Kill her ideal!" The words rang in the empty corners of his heart and
mind. "Somewhere he is following his ideal, and living true and sure!"

Unconsciously, as men do in an hour of stress, Travers turned to action.
Presently he found himself setting the tiny room in order as one does
after a dear one has departed, or a spirit taken its flight. And while he
moved about his reason was slowly readjusting itself, and he felt
poignantly his impotency, his inability to use even his love for
dominance. Being a just and honest man, he could not deny what Priscilla
had said; truth rang in every sentence, chimed in with the minor notes of
his life. No thought of following or staying her entered his mind; she
had set about her business, woman's business, and, to the man's excited
fancy, he seemed to see her pressing forward to the doing of that to
which her soul called her. Then it was her beautiful shining hair he
remembered, and his passion cried out for its own.

"This comes," he fiercely cried, setting his teeth hard, "of our leaving
them behind--our women! Through the ages their place has been beside us
as we fought every foe of the race. We set them aside in our folly, and
now"--he bowed his head upon his folded arms--"and now they are waking up
and demanding only what is theirs!"

A specimen of the new man was Travers, but inheritance, and Ledyard's
teaching, had left their seal upon him. Bowed in Priscilla's little room
he tried to see his way, but for a time he reasoned with Ledyard's words
ringing in his ears. Had he not gone over this with his friend and
partner many a time?

"Yes, I know the cursed evil, know its power and danger! Yes, it
threatens--the race, but it has its roots in the ages; it must be