spent several hours in trying various toilets. She was not long in
deciding against disguising herself as a working woman. That garb
might win his mental and moral approval; but not by mental and moral
ways did women and men prevail with each other. In plain garb--so Jane
decided, as she inspected herself--she was no match for Selma Gordon;
she looked awkward, out of her element. So much being settled, there
remained to choose among her various toilets. She decided for an
embroidered white summer dress, extremely simple, but in the way that
costs beyond the power of any but the very rich to afford. When she was
ready to set forth, she had never looked so well in her life. Her
toilet SEEMED a mere detail. In fact, it was some such subtlety as
those arrangements of lines and colors in great pictures, whereby the
glance of the beholder is unconsciously compelled toward the central
figure, just as water in a funnel must go toward the aperture at the
bottom. Jane felt, not without reason, that she had executed a stroke
of genius. She was wearing nothing that could awaken Victor Dorn's
prejudices about fine clothes, for he must have those prejudices. Yet
she was dressed in conformity with all that centuries, ages of
experience, have taught the dressmaking art on the subject of feminine
allure. And, when a woman feels that she is so dressed, her natural
allure becomes greatly enhanced.

She drove down to a point in Monroe Avenue not far from the house where
Victor and his family lived. The day was hot; boss-ridden Remsen City
had dusty and ragged streets and sidewalks. It, therefore, would not
do to endanger the freshness of the toilet. But she would arrive as if
she had come all the way on foot. Arrival in a motor at so humble a
house would look like ostentation; also, if she were seen going through
that street afoot, people would think she was merely strolling a little
out of her way to view the ruins of the buildings set on fire by the
mob. She did pause to look at these ruins; the air of the neighborhood
still had a taint of burnt wood and paper. Presently, when she was sure
the street was clear of people of the sort who might talk--she hastily
entered the tiny front yard of Victor's house, and was pleased to find
herself immediately screened from the street by the luxuriant bushes
and creepers.

There was nothing in the least pretentious about the appearance of the
little house. It was simply a well built