Mrs. Vane drew herself up (figuratively). "Speak for
yourself. It may be that I am too old to accept new ideas, but this one
certainly seems to me downright immoral and indecent. This is not
intended to reflect on you personally, Mary, and of course you were more
or less demoralized by your close contact with the war. I mean the
idea--the thing--itself. We may call in doctors and surgeons when we are
in bodily discomfort, and be thankful that they are more advanced than in
our mothers' time, when people died of appendicitis every day in the week
and called it inflammation of the bowels. But no one can tell me that
rejuvenation is not against the laws of nature. What are you going to do
with this new youth--I never saw any one look less indifferent to
life!--make fools of men again--of our sons?"

"Who can tell?" asked Mary maliciously. "Could anything be more amusing
than to come back to New York after thirty-four years and be a belle
again, with the sons and grandsons of my old friends proposing to me?"

"Do you really mean that?" Mrs. Vane almost rose. She recalled that her
youngest son had met Madame Zattiany in Mrs. Oglethorpe's box on Monday
night and had been mooning about the house ever since. "If I thought
that----"

"Well, what would you do, Polly?" Mary laughed outright. "Your
son--Harry is his name, is it not?--is remarkably good-looking and very
charming. After all, where could you find a safer and more understanding
wife for him than a woman who has had not only the opportunity to know
the world and men like the primer, but looks--is--so young that he is
bound to forget it and be led like a lamb? Girls, those uncharted seas,
are always a risk----"

"Stop tormenting Polly," exclaimed Mrs. Oglethorpe. "Mary has no
intention of marrying any one. She's only waiting for her estate to be
settled in order to return to Europe and devote herself to certain plans
of reconstruction----"

"Is that true?"

"Quite true," said Madame Zattiany, smiling. "Don't worry, Polly. If I
marry it will be some one you are not interested in too personally, and
it is doubtful if I ever marry at all. There's a tremendous work to be
done in Europe, and so far as lies in my power I shall do my share. If I
marry it will be some one who can help me. I can assure you I long since
ceased to be susceptible, particularly to young men. Remember that while
my _brain_ has been rejuvenated with the rest of my physical