jealous of
one another, but this has knocked them silly and they can't get used to
it. It's--it's--oh, it's too awful! I almost died of shame."

"I really do not understand. Do you mean to tell me they meant to be
rude? I thought they were rather naive and charming."

"Damned hypocrites. They hoped to make you simply expire with
embarrassment. But you were splendid. They must feel like naughty
children that have been stood in a corner."

Madame Zattiany laughed. "Then I have unwittingly been playing my part
in a little comedy. How stupid they must have thought me! But I
really hope for their sakes that you are mistaken." She rose and held
out her hand. "I am going to ask you to excuse me, Mr. Vane. I have a
small commission for Mr. Clavering, who has kindly waited. And I am
very tired."

Vane's face fell and he looked resentfully at Clavering, in whom he
instantly recognized a rival. But there was nothing to do but go and
he went.

When Madame Zattiany heard the front door close she told the footman on
duty in the hall to put out the lights and go to bed.

Then she walked down the room to the library door. "Will you put out
these lights?" she asked Clavering. "I believe we still have a fire in
here."

Clavering, expecting to find her dissolved in tears, and, violent as
his sympathy for her was, rejoicing that his was the part to comfort
her, followed her precipitately. But she was standing by the table
with scornful lips and eyes.

"I thought you'd be all broken up," he stammered. Tears of
disappointment almost rose to his own eyes.

She laughed shortly. "I? Do you suppose I would pay them so great a
compliment? But what a ridiculous exhibition they made of themselves.
It seems incredible."

"But surely you must have been hurt--and stabbed. It isn't possible
that you weren't!"

"Oh, yes, I was stabbed, but I think I was even more amused. I felt
sorry for the poor things. I certainly never saw a more comically
naked exhibition of human nature. It was worth coming to America for.
Nor do I blame them. No doubt I should have felt the same at their
age--although I hope I should even then have expressed myself in a
fashion a trifle more subtle, a little less primeval."

"Good God! Are you always so--so rational?"

She smiled slightly. "If I deliberately unlearned the more valuable
things a long life taught me there would be no object beyond vanity in
being young again. And don't