the handsome thing by Margaret
carried with it, or, rather, contained within itself, as Jenny conceived
the position, another object to which in its turn it was, if not
subsidiary, so closely related as to be inseparable. Fate had severed
her life from Octon's; Jenny imperiously refused to accept the severance
as complete. Octon, the man she loved, had been at odds with the
neighborhood, had been scorned and rejected by it; she herself had
openly disgraced him at its bidding; because she had not been able to
resist his fascination, she had herself fallen into disgrace. She meant
now to obliterate all that. For him she could directly do nothing; she
would do everything for his name and for the girl whom he had left. She
would vindicate--or avenge--his memory; she would even glorify it in the
person of his daughter. That was the ultimate impulse which gave birth
to her combination and dictated its moves; the achievement of that end
was to be its consummation.

It was not a selfish impulse; it had indeed a touch of something
quixotic and fanciful about it--this posthumous victory which she sought
to win for Octon, this imposing of him in his death on a society which
would have nothing of him while he lived, this proud refusal to court or
to accept oblivion for him or for her friendship with him, this
challenge thrown out to his detractors, in his name, as it were from his
grave. Her personal restoration and aggrandizement, if welcome in
themselves, were also necessary to this final object. The object itself
was not self-seeking save in so far as she stood identified with the
cause which she championed. Yet on the realization of it she did not
scruple to bring to bear all the resources and all the arts which would
have been appropriate to the most cold and calculating selfishness.
Everything was pressed into the service--the resources of her own
wealth, the opportunities afforded by the needs of her neighbors,
Catsford's appetite for holidays and feasts, as well as its aspirations
toward higher education; her own youth and attractiveness no less than
Margaret's beauty; the wiles and the cunning by which she gained power
over men. She spent herself as lavishly as she spent her money; she was
as ready to sacrifice herself as she was eager to make use of others.
She seized on every new ally and fitted him into her scheme. Dormer had
appeared at the last moment--by happy chance. In a moment she saw where
he could be of use, la