These two, thus facing a practical situation, revealed an important, overlooked truth about human morals.Humanity divides broadly into three classes: the arrived; those who will never arrive and will never try; those in a state of flux, attempting and either failing or succeeding.The arrived and the inert together preach and to a certain extent practice an idealistic system of morality that interferes with them in no way.It does not interfere with the arrived because they have no need to infringe it, except for amusement; it does not interfere with the inert, but rather helps them to bear their lot by giving them a cheering notion that their insignificance is due to their goodness.This idealistic system receives the homage of lip service from the third and struggling section of mankind, but no more, for in practice it would hamper them at every turn in their efforts to fight their way up.Susan was, at that stage of her career, a candidate for membership in the struggling class.Her heart was set firmly against the unwritten, unspoken, even unwhispered code of practical morality which dominates the struggling class.But life had at least taught her the folly of intolerance.So when Gideon talked in terms of that practical morality, she listened without offense; and she talked to him in terms of it because to talk the idealistic morality in which she had been bred and before which she bowed the knee in sincere belief would have been simply to excite his laughter at her innocence and his contempt for her folly.

"I feel that I've been paid," said she."I did it for the house--because I owed it to them.""Only for the house?" said he with insinuating tenderness.He took and pressed the fingers extended with the money in them.

"Only for the house," she repeated, a hard note in her voice.

And her fingers slipped away, leaving the money in his hand.

"At least, I suppose it must have been for the house," she added, reflectively, talking to herself aloud."Why did I do it? I don't know.I don't know.They say one always has a reason for what one does.But I often can't find any reason for things I do--that, for instance.I simply did it because it seemed to me not to matter much what __I__ did with myself, and they wanted the order so badly." Then she happened to become conscious of his presence and to see a look of uneasiness, self-complacence, as if he were thinking that he quite understood this puzzle.She disconcerted him with what vain men call a cruel snub."But whatever the reason, it certainly couldn't have been you," said she.

"Now, look here, Lorna," protested Gideon, the beginnings of anger in his tone."That's not the way to talk if you want to get on."She eyed him with an expression which would have raised a suspicion that he was repulsive in a man less self-confident, less indifferent to what the human beings he used for pleasure or profit thought of him.

"To say nothing of what I can do for you, there's the matter of future orders.I order twice a year--in big lots always.""I've quit down there."

"Oh! Somebody else has given you something good--eh? _That's_why you're cocky."

"No."

"Then why've you quit?"

"I wish you could tell me.I don't understand.But--I've done it."Gideon puzzled with this a moment, decided that it was beyond him and unimportant, anyhow.He blew out a cloud of smoke, stretched his legs and took up the main subject."I was about to say, I've got a place for you.I'd like to take you to Chicago, but there's a Mrs.G.--as dear, sweet, good a soul as ever lived--just what a man wants at home with the children and to make things respectable.I wouldn't grieve her for worlds.