"It seems to me, Mr. Gorham," she said, "that your proposition is a
very plain one: you claim simply that John Baker had better not have
saved the child if, in order to do so, it was necessary to lose his
own life."

"Precisely," exclaimed Mr. Green, in a tone of some contempt.

"Was not Mr. Gorham's meaning that, though it required very great
courage to do what Baker did, a man who stopped to think of his own
wife and children would have shown even greater courage?" asked Miss
Emily Vincent. She was the youngest of the party, a beautiful girl, of
fine presence, with a round face, dark eyes, and brilliant
pink-and-white coloring. She had been invited to stay by the Lawfords
because George Gorham was attentive to her; or, more properly
speaking, George Gorham had been asked because he was attentive to
her.

"Thank you, Miss Vincent: you have expressed my meaning perfectly,"
said Gorham; and his face gladdened. He was dead in love with her, and
this was the first civil word, so to speak, she had said to him during
the visit.

"Do you agree with him?" inquired Miss Newbury, with intellectual
sternness.

"And do you agree with Mr. Gorham?" asked Mrs. Lawford, at the same
moment, caressingly.

All eyes were turned on Emily Vincent, and she let hers fall. She felt