prolonged and deepened itself to
receive them, while every face at the table, Ralph Marvell's excepted,
reflected in varying degree Mr. Dagonet's pained astonishment.

"But, my dear young lady--what would your friend's situation be if, as
you put it, she 'got rid' of her husband on so trivial a pretext?"

Undine, surprised at his dullness, tried to explain. "Oh that wouldn't
be the reason GIVEN, of course. Any lawyer could fix it up for them.
Don't they generally call it desertion?"

There was another, more palpitating, silence, broken by a laugh from
Ralph.

"RALPH!" his mother breathed; then, turning to Undine, she said with
a constrained smile: "I believe in certain parts of the country
such--unfortunate arrangements--are beginning to be tolerated. But in
New York, in spite of our growing indifference, a divorced woman is
still--thank heaven!--at a decided disadvantage."

Undine's eyes opened wide. Here at last was a topic that really
interested her, and one that gave another amazing glimpse into the
camera obscura of New York society. "Do you mean to say Mabel would be
worse off, then? Couldn't she even go round as much as she does now?"

Mrs. Marvell met this gravely. "It would depend, I should say, on the
kind of people she wished to see."

"Oh, the very best, of course! That would be her only object."

Ralph interposed with another laugh. "You see, Undine, you'd better
think twice before you divorce me!"

"RALPH!" his mother again breathed; but the girl, flushed and sparkling,
flung back: "Oh, it all depends on YOU! Out in Apex, if a girl marries a
man who don't come up to what she expected, people consider it's to her
credit to want to change. YOU'D better think twice of that!"

"If I were only sure of knowing what you expect!" he caught up her joke,
tossing it back at her across the fascinated silence of their listeners.

"Why, EVERYTHING!" she announced--and Mr. Dagonet, turning, laid an
intricately-veined old hand on, hers, and said, with a change of tone
that relaxed the tension of the listeners: "My child, if you look like
that you'll get it."

VIII

It was doubtless owing to Mrs. Fairford's foresight that such
possibilities of tension were curtailed, after dinner, by her carrying
off Ralph and his betrothed to the theatre.

Mr. Dagonet, it was understood, always went to bed after an hour's whist
with his daughter; and the silent Mr. Fairford gave his evenings to
bridge at his club. Th