And she beat the wings of her proud woman's heart against the bars that held her, until tired, and bleeding she was exhausted but unconquered.
She was furious with McLeod for his open association with negro politicians.
"Allan, in my soul, I am ashamed for you when I see you thus degrade your manhood."
"Nonsense, Mrs. Durham," he replied, "the most beautiful flower grows in dirt, but the flower is not dirt."
"Well, I knew you were vain, but that caps the climax!"
"Isn't my figure true, whether you say I'm dog-fennel or a pink?"
"No, you are not a flower. Will is the soul of man. The flower is ruled by laws outside itself. A man's will is creative. You can make law. You can walk with your head among the stars, and you choose to crawl in a ditch. I am out of patience with you."
"But only for a purpose. You must judge by the end in view."
"There's no need to stoop so low."
"I assure you it is absolutely necessary to my aims in life. And they are high enough. I appreciate your interest in me, more than I dare to tell you. You have always been kind to me since I was a wild red-headed brute of a boy. And you have always been my supreme inspiration in work. While others have cursed and scoffed you smiled at me and your smile has warmed my heart in its blackest nights."
She looked at him with a mother-like tenderness.
"What ends could be high enough to justify such methods?"
"I hate poverty and squalour. It's been my fate. I've sworn to climb out of it, if I have to fight or buy my
