fe,
that all the women she knew--except perhaps Caroline Briggs--had had
more than herself, had had a far better time than she had had. During
the last ten years her brilliant past had faded until now she could
scarcely believe in it. It had become like a pale aquarelle. Her memory
retained events, of course, but they seemed to have happened in the life
of someone she had known intimately rather than of herself. They were
to her like things told rather than like things lived. There were times
when she even felt innocent. So much had she changed during the last ten
years. And now she revolted, like a woman who had never lived and wanted
to live for the first time, like a woman who had never had anything and
who demanded possession. She even got up and stood out in the big room,
saying to herself:

"What shall I do to-night? I can't stay here all alone. I must go out. I
must do something unusual to take me out of myself. Mere stagnation here
will drive me mad. I've got to do something to get away from myself."

But what could she do? An elderly well-known woman cannot break out of
her house in the night, like an unknown young man, and run wild in the
streets of London, or wander in the parks, seeking distractions and
adventures.

Ten years ago in Paris she had felt something of the same angry desire
for the freedom of a man, something of the same impotence. Her curbed
wildness then had tortured her. It tortured her now. Life was in violent
activity all about her. Even the shop girls had something to look
forward to. Soon they would be going out with their lovers. She knew
something of the freedom of the modern girl. Women were beginning to
take what men had always had. But all that freedom was too late for her!
(She forgot that she had taken it long ago in Paris and felt that she
had never had it. And that feeling made part of her anger.)

The clock struck the half-hour.

Just then the door was opened and the footman appeared before she had
had time to move. He looked faintly surprised at seeing her standing
facing him in the middle of the room.

"Mr. Craven has called my lady."

"Mr. Craven! But I told you to let him in. Have you sent him away?"

"No, my lady. But Mr. Craven wouldn't come up till I had seen your
ladyship. He said it was so late. He asked me first to tell your
ladyship he had called, and whether he might see you just for a minute,
as he had a message to give your ladyship."

"A message! Please