Because I am weak, and therefore envious. Why should you reject my
sympathy? I could be a better friend to you than any you have. I myself
have no friend; I can't make myself liked. I feel dreadfully alone,
without a soul who cares for me. I am my husband's plaything, and of
course he scorns me. I am sure he laughs at me with his friends and
mistresses. And you too scorn me, though I have tried to make you my
friend. Of course it is all at an end between us now. I understand your
nature; it isn't quite what I thought."

Cecily beard, but scarcely with understanding. The word for which she
was waiting did not come.

"Why," she asked, "do you speak of offering me sympathy? What do you
hint at?"

"Seriously, you don't know?"

"I don't," was the cold answer.

"Why did you go abroad without your husband?"

It came upon Cecily with a shock. Were people discussing her, and thus
interpreting her actions?

"Surely that is my own business, Mrs. Travis. I was in poor health, and
my husband was too busy to accompany me."

"That is the simple truth, from _your_ point of view?"

"How have you done me the honour to understand me?"

Mrs. Travis examined her; then put another question.

"Have you seen your husband since you arrived?"

"No, I have not."

"And you don't know that he is being talked about everywhere--not
exactly for his moral qualities?"

Cecily was mute. Thereupon Mrs. Travis opened the little sealskin-bag
that lay on her lap, and took out a newspaper. She held it to Cecily,
pointing to a certain report. It was a long account of lively
proceedings at a police-court. Cecily read. When she had come to the
end, her eyes remained on the paper. She did not move until Mrs. Travis
put out a hand and touched hers; then she drew back, as in repugnance.

"You had heard nothing of this?"

Cecily did not reply. Thereupon Mrs. Travis again opened her little
bag, and took out a cabinet photograph. It represented a young woman in
tights, her arms folded, one foot across the other; the face was
vulgarly piquant, and wore a smile which made eloquent declaration of
its price.

"That is the 'lady,'" said Mrs. Travis, with a slight emphasis on the
last word.

Cecily looked for an instant only. There was perfect silence for a
minute or two after that; then Cecily rose. She did not speak; but the
other, also rising, said:

"I shouldn't have come if I had known you were still ignorant. But now
you can, and will, think