the brilliant
publicity which her exquisite gift conferred. Her art had not only
placed her below the level of her sex's morality, it had lifted her
above any embarrassment of accident, and as she hesitated for a single
smiling minute in the doorway, she appeared more at home in her
surroundings than either of the two women who stood, in silence,
awaiting her advance. With her ermine, her ostrich feathers, her smile,
and her scented powder, she impressed Laura less as extinguishing her by
the splendour of a presence than as smothering her in the softness of an
effect. For it was at Laura that, after the first gently enquiring
glance, she levelled her words as well as her caressing look.

"It was such a happy chance to meet you that I couldn't let it slip,"
she said, as she bore down upon her with a large, soft hand
outstretched, "Mr. Kemper has been so good a friend to me that I am
overjoyed to have the opportunity of telling you how much I think of
him. He has been really the greatest help about some speculations,
too--don't you think he has quite a genius for that kind of thing?"

For a moment Laura looked at her in a surprise caused less by the
other's entrance than by her own inward composure. For weeks she had
told herself that she hated Madame Alta in her heart, yet, brought face
to face with her, feeling the soft pressure of her hand, she realised
that she had hated merely a creature of straw and not this woman whose
humanity was, after all, of the same flesh and blood and spirit as her
own. By the wonder of her intuition she had recognised in her first
glance the thing which Kemper, for all his worldly knowledge, had missed
in his more intimate association, and this was that the soul of the
woman before her had not perished, but was still tossed wildly in the
fires of art, of greed, of sensuality. Between her lover and the prima
donna she knew that for this one instant at least, she was strong
enough to stand absolutely detached and incapable of judgment. And in a
sudden light, as from a lamp that was turned inward, she saw that if she
could but maintain this attitude of pity, she would place her happiness
beyond any harm from the attacks of Madame Alta or of her kind. She saw
this, yet she felt that the vision was almost useless, for even while
she stood there the light went out and she knew that it would not shine
for her again.

"I know but little of that side of him," she answered, smiling. "It is
pleasa