n, a
woman revealing, proclaiming, in every line, in every
movement, that she was thus elaborately and beautifully
toiletted to please man, to appeal to his senses, to gain his
gracious approval. It was the world in miniature; it was an
illustration of the position of woman--of her own position.
Favorite; pet. Not the equal of man, but an appetizer, a
dessert. She glanced at herself in the glass, mocked her own
radiant beauty of face and form and dress. Not really a full
human being; merely a decoration. No more; and no worse off
than most of the women everywhere, the favorites licensed or
unlicensed of law and religion. But just as badly off, and
just as insecure. Free! No rest, no full breath until
freedom had been won! At any cost, by straight way or
devious--free!

"Let's go home," said she abruptly. "I've had enough of this."

She was in a dressing gown, all ready for bed and reading,
when Palmer came into her sitting-room. She was smoking, her
gaze upon her book. Her thick dark hair was braided close to
her small head. There was delicate lace on her nightgown,
showing above the wadded satin collar of the dressing gown.
He dropped heavily into a chair.

"If anyone had told me a year ago that a skirt could make a
damn fool of me," said he bitterly, "I'd have laughed in his
face. Yet--here I am! How nicely I did drop into your trap
today--about the acting!"

"Trap?"

"Oh, I admit I built and baited and set it, myself--ass that I
was! But it was your trap--yours and Brent's, all the
same. . . . A skirt--and not a clean one, at that."

She lowered the book to her lap, took the cigarette from
between her lips, looked at him. "Why not be reasonable,
Freddie?" said she calmly. Language had long since lost its
power to impress her. "Why irritate yourself and annoy me
simply because I won't let you tyrannize over me? You know
you can't treat me as if I were your property. I'm not your
wife, and I don't have to be your mistress."

"Getting ready to break with me eh?"

"If I wished to go, I'd tell you--and go."

"You'd give me the shake, would you?--without the slightest
regard for all I've done for you!"

She refused to argue that again. "I hope I've outgrown doing
weak gentle things through cowardice and pretending it's
through goodness of heart."

"You've gotten hard--like stone."

"Like you--somewhat." And after a moment she added, "Anything
that's strong is hard--isn't it?