II

Susy Suffern's explanation did not end till after ten o'clock, and she
had just gone when Franklin Ide, who, complying with an old New York
tradition, had caused himself to be preceded by a long white box of
roses, was shown into Mrs. Lidcote's sitting-room.

He came forward with his shy half-humorous smile and, taking her hand,
looked at her for a moment without speaking.

"It's all right," he then pronounced.

Mrs. Lidcote returned his smile. "It's extraordinary. Everything's
changed. Even Susy has changed; and you know the extent to which Susy
used to represent the old New York. There's no old New York left, it
seems. She talked in the most amazing way. She snaps her fingers at the
Pursues. She told me--_me_, that every woman had a right to happiness
and that self-expression was the highest duty. She accused me of
misunderstanding Leila; she said my point of view was conventional!
She was bursting with pride at having been in the secret, and wearing
a brooch that Wilbour Barkley'd given her!" Franklin Ide had seated
himself in the arm-chair she had pushed forward for him under the
electric chandelier. He threw back his head and laughed. "What did I
tell you?"

"Yes; but I can't believe that Susy's not mistaken. Poor dear, she has
the habit of lost causes; and she may feel that, having stuck to me, she
can do no less than stick to Leila."

"But she didn't--did she?--openly defy the world for you? She didn't
snap her fingers at the Lidcotes?"

Mrs. Lidcote shook her head, still smiling. "No. It was enough to defy
_my_ family. It was doubtful at one time if they would tolerate her
seeing me, and she almost had to disinfect herself after each visit. I
believe that at first my sister-in-law wouldn't let the girls come down
when Susy dined with her."

"Well, isn't your cousin's present attitude the best possible proof that
times have changed?"

"Yes, yes; I know." She leaned forward from her sofa-corner, fixing her
eyes on his thin kindly face, which gleamed on her indistinctly
through her tears. "If it's true, it's--it's dazzling. She says Leila's
perfectly happy. It's as if an angel had gone about lifting gravestones,
and the buried people walked again, and the living didn't shrink from
them."

"That's about it," he assented.

She drew a deep breath, and sat looking away from him down the long
perspective of lamp-fringed streets over which her windows hung.

"I can understand how happy you must be,