uld not
entertain for an instant, contradicted as it was by the facts of eight
years. She knew she had surprised Dumont. She had learned nothing new;
but it forced her to stare straight into the face of that which she had
been ignoring, that which she must continue to ignore if she was to
meet the ever heavier and crueler exactions of the debt she had
incurred when she betrayed her father and mother and herself. At a
time when her mind was filled with bitter contrasts between what was
and what might have been, it brought bluntly to her the precise kind of
life she was leading, the precise kind of surroundings she was
tolerating.

"Whom can he be giving such a gift?" she wondered. And she had an
impulse to confide in Leonora to the extent of encouraging her to hint
who it was. "She would certainly know. No doubt everybody knows,
except me."

She called for her, as she had promised, and took her to lunch at
Sherry's. But the impulse to confide died as Leonora talked--of money,
of ways of spending money; of people who had money, and those who
hadn't money; of people who were spending too much money, of those who
weren't spending enough money; of what she would do if she had money,
of what many did to get money. Money, money, money--it was all of the
web and most of the woof of her talk. Now it ran boldly on the surface
of the pattern; now it was half hid under something about art or books
or plays or schemes for patronizing the poor and undermining their
self-respect--but it was always there.

For the first time Leonora jarred upon her fiercely--unendurably. She
listened until the sound grew indistinct, became mingled with the
chatter of that money-flaunting throng. And presently the chatter
seemed to her to be a maddening repetition of one word, money--the
central idea in all the thought and all the action of these people. "I
must get away," she thought, "or I shall cry out." And she left
abruptly, alleging that she must hurry to catch her train.

Money-mad! her thoughts ran on. The only test of honor--money, and
ability and willingness to spend it. They must have money or they're
nobodies. And if they have money, who cares where it came from? No
one asks where the men get it--why should any one ask where the women
get it?

XVI.

CHOICE AMONG EVILS.

A few days afterward--it was a Wednesday--Pauline came up to town early
in the afternoon, as she had an appointment with the dressmaker and was