In some woman's
drawing-room or in their offices? The answer's obvious, isn't it? The
emotional centre of gravity's not the same in the two hemispheres. In
the effete societies it's love, in our new one it's business. In America
the real crime passionnel is a 'big steal'--there's more excitement in
wrecking railways than homes."

Bowen paused to light another cigarette, and then took up his theme.
"Isn't that the key to our easy divorces? If we cared for women in the
old barbarous possessive way do you suppose we'd give them up as
readily as we do? The real paradox is the fact that the men who make,
materially, the biggest sacrifices for their women, should do least for
them ideally and romantically. And what's the result--how do the women
avenge themselves? All my sympathy's with them, poor deluded dears, when
I see their fallacious little attempt to trick out the leavings
tossed them by the preoccupied male--the money and the motors and the
clothes--and pretend to themselves and each other that THAT'S what
really constitutes life! Oh, I know what you're going to say--it's less
and less of a pretense with them, I grant you; they're more and more
succumbing to the force of the suggestion; but here and there I fancy
there's one who still sees through the humbug, and knows that money and
motors and clothes are simply the big bribe she's paid for keeping out
of some man's way!"

Mrs. Fairford presented an amazed silence to the rush of this tirade;
but when she rallied it was to murmur: "And is Undine one of the
exceptions?"

Her companion took the shot with a smile. "No--she's a monstrously
perfect result of the system: the completest proof of its triumph. It's
Ralph who's the victim and the exception."

"Ah, poor Ralph!" Mrs. Fairford raised her head quickly. "I hear him
now. I suppose," she added in an undertone, "we can't give him your
explanation for his wife's having forgotten to come?"

Bowen echoed her sigh, and then seemed to toss it from him with his
cigarette-end; but he stood in silence while the door opened and Ralph
Marvell entered.

"Well, Laura! Hallo, Charles--have you been celebrating too?" Ralph
turned to his sister. "It's outrageous of me to be so late, and I
daren't look my son in the face! But I stayed down town to make
provision for his future birthdays." He returned Mrs. Fairford's kiss.
"Don't tell me the party's over, and the guest of honour gone to bed?"

As he stood before them, laughin