s friends, and you might at least give 'em a chance"--Ethel knew he
was thinking that, though he only ended gently, "But I guess I'll leave
it all to you. Do as you like. I'll be satisfied."

"He won't be, though," she told herself. She knew he would be
distinctly annoyed if she did not enter in. "No, I've simply got to be
nice to them. There's no keeping them away!"

And in this she was right. Flowers and gifts for the baby came, and
several more women friends; and one of them brought her husband. Nearly
always they stayed until Joe came home; and in his manner, with dismay,
she saw the hold they were getting. It was not only flattery they
used, they appealed to his loyalty to his first wife. "Don't drop us
now," they seemed to say. "We were your friends when you were
poor--when she was poor. If she had lived, just think how welcome we
should be."

Early one evening when Ethel and Joe were dressing for dinner, Emily
Giles came in with a long box of roses. Ethel thought they were for
herself.

"No," said Emily, "they're for your husband."

"For me?" Joe laughed. "There's some mistake."

"No--there's no mistake," said Ethel, in a low unnatural voice. In an
instant she had grown cold. What a fool, to have forgotten that this
was Amy's birthday! Inside the box was Fanny's card and on it she had
written, "In memory of the many times I helped you buy a birthday gift."

Ethel went quickly out of the room. It was an awkward evening.

Fanny gave a dinner soon after that to celebrate Ethel's recovery. It
was in a hotel grill room, and it was large and noisy--and noisier and
noisier--till even above the boisterous hubbub at the tables all about,
the noise of their party could be heard. At least so it seemed to
Ethel's ears. And what were they saying? Anything really witty,
sparkling? No--just chatter, peals of laughter! They were just plain
cheap and tough! how red were their faces, warm and moist their lips
and eyes!

"You're not vivid enough, that's the trouble with you! You've got to be
vivider!" she thought. "You ought to have taken that cocktail!" She
drank wine now, a whole glass of it, and tried to be very boisterous
with the man on her right, who was smiling back as though he could
barely hear her voice. "He has had too much!" she told herself. "Oh,
how I loathe you--loathe you all!"

But later, when they began to dance, she found with a little glow of
relief that she could do this rather well. Thank Heaven