r with my feet on a red and gold cushion
and rotate my waist like an oriental dancer. I stand on my head and
hands and curve my body to right and left in graceful flexings. I do
this no matter how cold it is. I do not feel the cold, for I am all
aglow with health and strength. Then, before my bath, I do dumb-bell
exercises in front of the mirror.

I remember dining with my husband one night in a pink lace peignoir--we
had been married about three years--and during the dessert, I excused
myself and went into my bedroom and, posing before a cheval glass, I let
the peignoir slip off my shoulders, and stood there like a piece of
polished marble, rejoicing in my youth and loveliness!

How I hated my husband that night! He had taught me to drink. He had
made me sensual. He had not yet assumed the coarse, red-faced brutish
aspect that he wore later, but he had a coarse, red-faced brutish soul.
Alas! his body was still fine enough to tempt me. And his mind was
devilishly clever enough to captivate my fancy. He took away my faith,
_even my faith in motherhood_. That was why I chiefly hated him.

For three years my husband disgusted me with his unfaithfulness. No
woman was too high or too low, too refined or too ignorant, for his
passing fancy, if only she had physical attractiveness--just a little
physical attractiveness. Anything for variety, shop girl or duchess,
kitchen maid or society leader, they were all the same to Julian. He
confessed to me that he once made love to a little auburn-haired
_divorcee_ while they were in a mourning carriage going to her sister's
funeral. _Et elle s'est laissee faire!_

He was like a hunter following his prey, like an angler fishing, he
cared only for the chase, for the capture. That was the man I had
married!

What a liar he was! He poisoned my mind with his lies, assuring me that
all men were like himself, hypocrites, incapable of being true to one
woman. And I believed him. The ghastly part of it is I still believe
him. I can't help it. I have suffered too much. I can never have faith
in another man, not even in Captain Herrick. That is why I shall never
marry again--that is one reason.

* * * * *

_Sunday._

A wonderful day! I strolled along the board walk in my new furs, and met
a young mother pushing a baby carriage with two splendid baby boys--one
of them sucking at his bottle. Such babies! She let me hold the little
fellow and I cuddled him cl