strefford was leaving for england.

once assured that susy had taken the first step toward freeingherself, he frankly regarded her as his affianced wife, andcould see no reason for further mystery. she understood hisimpatience to have their plans settled; it would protect himfrom the formidable menace of the marriageable, and causepeople, as he said, to stop meddling. now that the novelty ofhis situation was wearing off, his natural indolence reasserteditself, and there was nothing he dreaded more than having to beon his guard against the innumerable plans that his well-wisherswere perpetually making for him. sometimes susy fancied he wasmarrying her because to do so was to follow the line of leastresistance.

"to marry me is the easiest way of not marrying all the others,"she laughed, as he stood before her one day in a quiet alley ofthe bois de boulogne, insisting on the settlement of variouspreliminaries. "i believe i'm only a protection to you."an odd gleam passed behind his eyes, and she instantly guessedthat he was thinking: "and what else am i to you?"she changed colour, and he rejoined, laughing also: "well,you're that at any rate, thank the lord!"she pondered, and then questioned: "but in the interval-howare you going to defend yourself for another year?""ah, you've got to see to that; you've got to take a littlehouse in london. you've got to look after me, you know."it was on the tip of her tongue to flash back: "oh, if that'sall you care--!" but caring was exactly the factor she wanted,as much as possible, to keep out of their talk and theirthoughts. she could not ask him how much he cared withoutlaying herself open to the same question; and that way terrorlay. as a matter of fact, though strefford was not an ardentwooer--perhaps from tact, perhaps from temperament, perhapsmerely from the long habit of belittling and disintegratingevery sentiment and every conviction--yet she knew he did carefor her as much as he was capable of caring for anyone. if theelement of habit entered largely into the feeling--if he likedher, above all, because he was used to her, knew her views, herindulgences, her allowances, knew he was never likely to bebored, and almost certain to be amused, by her; why, suchingredients though not of the fieriest, were perhaps those mostlikely to keep his feeling for her at a pleasant temperature.

she had had a taste of the tropics, and wanted more equableweather; but the idea of having to fan his flame gently for ayear was unspeakably depressing to her. yet all this wasprecisely what she could not say. the long period of probation,during which, as she knew, she would have to amuse him, to guardhim, to hold him, and to keep off the other women, was anecessary part of their situation. she was sure that, as littlebreckenridge would have said, she could "pull it off"; but shedid not want to think about it. what she would have preferredwould have been to go away--no matter where and not seestrefford again till they were married. but she dared not tellhim that either.

"a little house in london--?" she wondered.

"well, i suppose you've got to have some sort of a roof overyour head.""i suppose so."he sat down beside her. "if you like me well enough to live ataltringham some day, won't you, in the meantime, let me provideyou with a smaller and more convenient establishment?"still she hesitated. the alternative, she knew, would be tolive on ursula gillow, violet melrose, or some other of her richfriends, any one of whom would be ready to lavish the largesthospitality on the prospective lady altringham. such anarrangement, in the long run, would be no less humiliating toher pride, no less destructive to her independence, thanaltringham's little establishment. but she temporized. "ishall go over to london in december, and stay for a while withvarious people--then we can look about.""all right; as you like." he obviously considered herhesitation ridiculous, but was too full of satisfaction at herhaving started divorce proceedings to be chilled by her reply.

"and now, look here, my dear; couldn't i give you some sort of aring?""a ring?" she flushed at the suggestion. "what's the use,streff, dear? with all those jewels locked away in london--""oh, i daresay you'll think them old-fashioned. and, hang it,why shouldn't i give you something new, i ran across ellie andbockheimer yesterday, in the rue de la paix, picking outsapphires. do you like sapphires, or emeralds? or just adiamond? i've seen a thumping one .... i'd like you to haveit."ellie and bockheimer! how she hated the conjunction of thenames! their case always seemed to her like a caricature of herown, and she felt an unreasoning resentment against ellie forhaving selected the same season for her unmating and re-mating.

"i wish you wouldn't speak of them, streff ... as if they werelike us! i can hardly bear to sit in the same room with ellievanderlyn.""hullo? what's wrong? you mean because of her giving upclarissa?""not that only .... you don't know .... i can't tell you ...."she shivered at the memory, and rose restlessly from the benchwhere they had been sitting.

strefford gave his careless shrug. "well, my dear, you canhardly expect me to agree, for after all it was to ellie i owedthe luck of being so long alone with you in venice. if she andalgie hadn't prolonged their honeymoon at the villa--"he stopped abruptly, and looked at susy. she was conscious thatevery drop of blood had left her face. she felt it ebbing awayfrom her heart, flowing out of her as if from all her severedarteries, till it seemed as though nothing were left of life inher but one point of irreducible pain.

"ellie--at your villa? what do you mean? was it ellie andbockheimer who--?"strefford still stared. "you mean to say you didn't know?""who came after nick and me...?" she insisted.

"why, do you suppose i'd have turned you out otherwise? thatbeastly bockheimer simply smothered me with gold. ah, well,there's one good thing: i shall never have to let the villaagain! i rather like the little place myself, and i daresayonce in a while we might go there for a day or two .... susy,what's the matter?" he exclaimed.

she returned his stare, but without seeing him. everything swamand danced before her eyes.

"then she was there while i was posting all those letters forher--?""letters--what letters? what makes you look so frightfullyupset?"she pursued her thought as if he had not spoken. "she and algiebockheimer arrived there the very day that nick and i left?""i suppose so. i thought she'd told you. ellie always tellseverybody everything.""she would have told me, i daresay--but i wouldn't let her.""well, my dear, that was hardly my fault, was it? though ireally don't see--"but susy, still blind to everything but the dance of dizzysparks before her eyes, pressed on as if she had not heard him.

"it was their motor, then, that took us to milan! it was algiebockheimer's motor!" she did not know why, but this seemed toher the most humiliating incident in the whole hateful business.

she remembered nick's reluctance to use the motor-sheremembered his look when she had boasted of her "managing." thenausea mounted to her throat.

strefford burst out laughing. "i say--you borrowed their motor?

and you didn't know whose it was?""how could i know? i persuaded the chauffeur ... for a littletip .... it was to save our railway fares to milan ... extraluggage costs so frightfully in italy ....""good old susy! well done! i can see you doing it--""oh, how horrible--how horrible!" she groaned.

"horrible? what's horrible?""why, your not seeing ... not feeling ..." she beganimpetuously; and then stopped. how could she explain to himthat what revolted her was not so much the fact of his havinggiven the little house, as soon as she and nick had left it, tothose two people of all others--though the vision of them in thesweet secret house, and under the plane-trees of the terrace,drew such a trail of slime across her golden hours? no, it wasnot that from which she most recoiled, but from the fact thatstrefford, living in luxury in nelson vanderlyn's house, shouldat the same time have secretly abetted ellie vanderlyn's love-affairs, and allowed her--for a handsome price--to shelter themunder his own roof. the reproach trembled on her lip--but sheremembered her own part in the wretched business, and theimpossibility of avowing it to strefford, and of revealing tohim that nick had left her for that very reason. she was notafraid that the discovery would diminish her in strefford'seyes: he was untroubled by moral problems, and would laugh awayher avowal, with a sneer at nick in his new part of moralist.

but that was just what she could not bear: that anyone shouldcast a doubt on the genuineness of nick's standards, or shouldknow how far below them she had fallen.

she remained silent, and strefford, after a moment, drew hergently down to the seat beside him. "susy, upon my soul i don'tknow what you're driving at. is it me you're angry with-oryourself? and what's it all about! are you disgusted because ilet the villa to a couple who weren't married! but, hang it,they're the kind that pay the highest price and i had to earn myliving somehow! one doesn't run across a bridal pair everyday ...."she lifted her eyes to his puzzled incredulous face. poorstreff! no, it was not with him that she was angry. why shouldshe be? even that ill-advised disclosure had told her nothingshe had not already known about him. it had simply revealed toher once more the real point of view of the people he and shelived among, had shown her that, in spite of the superficialdifference, he felt as they felt, judged as they judged, wasblind as they were-and as she would be expected to be, shouldshe once again become one of them. what was the use of beingplaced by fortune above such shifts and compromises, if in one'sheart one still condoned them? and she would have to--she wouldcatch the general note, grow blunted as those other people wereblunted, and gradually come to wonder at her own revolt, asstrefford now honestly wondered at it. she felt as though shewere on the point of losing some new-found treasure, a treasureprecious only to herself, but beside which all he offered herwas nothing, the triumph of her wounded pride nothing, thesecurity of her future nothing.

"what is it, susy?" he asked, with the same puzzled gentleness.

ah, the loneliness of never being able to make him understand!

she had felt lonely enough when the flaming sword of nick'sindignation had shut her out from their paradise; but there hadbeen a cruel bliss in the pain. nick had not opened her eyes tonew truths, but had waked in her again something which had lainunconscious under years of accumulated indifference. and thatre-awakened sense had never left her since, and had somehow kepther from utter loneliness because it was a secret shared withnick, a gift she owed to nick, and which, in leaving her, hecould not take from her. it was almost, she suddenly felt, asif he had left her with a child.

"my dear girl," strefford said, with a resigned glance at hiswatch, "you know we're dining at the embassy ...."at the embassy? she looked at him vaguely: then sheremembered. yes, they were dining that night at the ascots',with strefford's cousin, the duke of dunes, and his wife, thehandsome irreproachable young duchess; with the old gamblingdowager duchess, whom her son and daughter-in-law had come overfrom england to see; and with other english and french guests ofa rank and standing worthy of the duneses. susy knew that herinclusion in such a dinner could mean but one thing: it was herdefinite recognition as altringham's future wife. she was "thelittle american" whom one had to ask when one invited him, evenon ceremonial occasions. the family had accepted her; theembassy could but follow suit.

"it's late, dear; and i've got to see someone on businessfirst," strefford reminded her patiently.

"oh, streff--i can't, i can't!" the words broke from herwithout her knowing what she was saying. "i can't go withyou--i can't go to the embassy. i can't go on any longer likethis ...." she lifted her eyes to his in desperate appeal.

"oh, understand-do please understand!" she wailed, knowing,while she spoke, the utter impossibility of what she asked.

strefford's face had gradually paled and hardened. from sallowit turned to a dusky white, and lines of obstinacy deepenedbetween the ironic eyebrows and about the weak amused mouth.

"understand? what do you want me to understand," he laughed.

"that you're trying to chuck me already?"she shrank at the sneer of the "already," but instantlyremembered that it was the only thing he could be expected tosay, since it was just because he couldn't understand that shewas flying from him.

"oh, streff--if i knew how to tell you!""it doesn't so much matter about the how. is that what you'retrying to say?"her head drooped, and she saw the dead leaves whirling acrossthe path at her feet, lifted on a sudden wintry gust.

"the reason," he continued, clearing his throat with a stiffsmile, "is not quite as important to me as the fact."she stood speechless, agonized by his pain. but still, shethought, he had remembered the dinner at the embassy. thethought gave her courage to go on.

"it wouldn't do, streff. i'm not a bit the kind of person tomake you happy.""oh, leave that to me, please, won't you?""no, i can't. because i should be unhappy too."he clicked at the leaves as they whirled past. "you've taken arather long time to find it out." she saw that his new-bornsense of his own consequence was making him suffer even morethan his wounded affection; and that again gave her courage.

"if i've taken long it's all the more reason why i shouldn'ttake longer. if i've made a mistake it's you who would havesuffered from it ....""thanks," he said, "for your extreme solicitude."she looked at him helplessly, penetrated by the despairing senseof their inaccessibility to each other. then she rememberedthat nick, during their last talk together, had seemed asinaccessible, and wondered if, when human souls try to get toonear each other, they do not inevitably become mere blurs toeach other's vision. she would have liked to say this tostreff-but he would not have understood it either. the senseof loneliness once more enveloped her, and she groped in vainfor a word that should reach him.

"let me go home alone, won't you?" she appealed to him.

"alone?"she nodded. "to-morrow--to-morrow ...."he tried, rather valiantly, to smile. "hang tomorrow! whateveris wrong, it needn't prevent my seeing you home." he glancedtoward the taxi that awaited them at the end of the deserteddrive.

"no, please. you're in a hurry; take the taxi. i wantimmensely a long long walk by myself ... through the streets,with the lights coming out ...."he laid his hand on her arm. "i say, my dear, you're not ill?""no; i'm not ill. but you may say i am, to-night at theembassy."he released her and drew back. "oh, very well," he answeredcoldly; and she understood by his tone that the knot was cut,and that at that moment he almost hated her. she turned away,hastening down the deserted alley, flying from him, and knowing,as she fled, that he was still standing there motionless,staring after her, wounded, humiliated, uncomprehending. it wasneither her fault nor his ....