from it leaving as his last contribution one magnificent achievement to mark his premature withdrawal as deplorable; for even though his plans should be worthy to win the Hospital Competition, Floyd, whom he would be attacking, could hardly allow him the prize. Floyd would be sure to find out before making the award which drawings Stewart had submitted—with no idea of being prejudiced, of course, but the prejudice would be inevitable. Reflecting upon this, Stewart could not help feeling that, in spite of all his despair, his drawings would, under normal conditions, have a good chance of winning, and that by taking the step that must insure defeat he would be doubly a martyr. The thought did not deter him; it fortified him to remember that without the element of personal sacrifice sympathy is futile. The friends that he had made in Avalon were all men whose selfish interests ran parallel with Floyd's. Stewart realized that he would alienate them all if he espoused the workingmen's cause. Well, these friends, though pleasant, had done little for him; they had been indifferent to his work, his talents, his ambition, and he could deny himself their indolent regard. For the same reason it would not be difficult, with his versatility, to give up his profession. Stewart could work with energy and enthusiasm so long as he was receiving applause for that which he produced, but when the applause ceased, the impulse to produce languished. Applause for his architectural achievement had long since passed. Now there began to glimmer for him the light of a kinder, more adoring, more alluring appreciation, which should burn in the hearts of the humble and inspire him to unselfish labor. How great was the need in Avalon of a champion for the workingman, one who would come down from among capitalists and employers to defend the poor and to assist their inarticulate speech! How warmly would such a champion be welcomed!
He kept his wife and her probable sentiments on this matter out of his thoughts.
