n?" repeated Esther, a pulse of something like anger
beating through the words.

Madame Beattie answered idly: "Up to see Jeff."

"I knew it!" Esther breathed.

"Of course," said Madame Beattie carelessly. "Jeff and I were quite
friends in old times. I was glad I went. It cheered him up."

"Did he--" Esther paused.

"Ask for you?" supplied Madame Beattie pleasantly. "Not a word."

Here Esther's curiosity did whip her on. She had to ask:

"How does he look?"

"Oh, youngish," said Madame. "Rather flabby. Obstinate. Ugly, too."

"Ugly? Plain, do you mean?"

"No. American for ugly--obstinate, sore-headed. He's hardened. He was
rather a silly boy, I remember. Had enthusiasms. Much in love. He isn't
now. He's no use for women."

Esther looked at her in an arrested thoughtfulness. Madame Beattie could
have laughed. She had delivered the challenge Jeff had not sent, and
Esther was accepting it, wherever it might lead, to whatever duelling
ground. Esther couldn't help that. A challenge was a challenge. She had
to answer. It was a necessity of type. Madame Beattie saw the least
little flickering thought run into her eyes, and knew she was
involuntarily charting the means of summons, setting up the loom, as it
were, to weave the magic web. She got up, took her hat, gave her toupee
a little smack with the hand, and unhinged it worse than ever.

"You'll have to give him up," she said.

"Give him up!" flamed Esther. "Do you think I want--"

There she paused and Madame Beattie supplied temperately:

"No matter what you want. You couldn't have him."

Then she went toiling upstairs, her chained ornaments clinking, and only
when she had shut the door upon herself did she relax and smile over the
simplicity of even a feminine creature so versed in obliquity as
Esther. For Esther might want to escape the man who had brought disgrace
upon her, but her flying feet would do her no good, so long as the
mainspring of her life set her heart beating irrationally for conquest.
Esther had to conquer even when the event would bring disaster: like a
chieftain who would enlarge his boundaries at the risk of taking in
savages bound to sow the dragon's teeth.

IX

That evening the Blake house had the sound and look of social life,
voices in conversational interchange and lights where Mary Nellen
excitedly arrayed them. Alston Choate had come to call, and following
him appeared an elderly lady whom Jeffrey greeted with more