She shook her head.

“I don’t know how you measure success; it is a word of so many, many meanings.  But I think you are your own severest critic.”

“That may be; but the fact remains.  It is only within the past few months that I have begun to get a true inkling of things; to know, for example, that opportunities are things to be compelled—­not waited for.”

She was looking away from him again.

“I am not sure that I like you better for your having discovered yourself.  I liked the other David Kent.”

He smiled rather joylessly.

“Somebody has said that for every new point of view gained we have to sacrifice all the treasures of the old.  I am sorry if I am disappointing you.”

“I don’t know that you are.  And yet, when you were sitting at Miss Van Brock’s table the other evening telling us about your experience with the politicians, I kept saying to myself that I didn’t know you—­that I had never known you.”

“I wish I knew just how to take that,” he said dubiously.

“I wish I knew how to make you understand,” she returned; and then:  “I could have made the other David Kent understand.”

“You are in duty bound to try to make this one understand, don’t you think?  You spoke of a danger which was not the violent kind, such as Loring fears.  What is it?”

“You have had two whole days,” she rejoined.  “Haven’t you discovered it?”

“I haven’t found anything to fear but failure,” was his reply.

“That is it; you have given it a name—­its only true name—­failure.”

“But I am not going to fail.”

“You mean you are going to take our railroad away from these men who have stolen it?”

“That is what I mean.”

“And you will do it by threatening to expose them?”

“I shall tell Governor Bucks what I know about the oil field deal, assuring him that I shall publish the facts if he doesn’t let the law take its course in ousting Judge MacFarlane and the receiver.”

She rose and stood before him, leaning against one of the vine-clad porch pillars with her hands behind her.

“David Kent, are there any circumstances in which you would accept a bribe?”

He answered her in all seriousness.

“They say every man has his price:  mine is higher than any bid they have yet made—­or can make, I hope.”

“Why don’t you let them bribe you?” she asked coolly.  “Is it because it is inexpedient—­because there is more ‘success’ the other way?”

He tried to emulate her coolness and made a failure of it.

“Have I ever done anything to make you think I had thrown common honesty and self-respect overboard?” he demanded.

Her answer was another question, sharp-edged and well thrust home.

“Is it any worse to take a bribe than it is to give one?  You have just admitted that you are going to buy the governor’s neutrality, you know.”