e Lady Swansdown,
paling, moves toward her. She seems to have lost all self-control--she
is trembling violently. It is a crisis.

"What is it?" says Lady Swansdown, harshly. "Why do you look at me like
that? Has it come to a close between us, Isabel? Oh! if
so"--vehemently--"it is better so."

"I don't think I understand you," says Lady Baltimore, who has grown
very white. Her tone is haughty; she has drawn back a little as if to
escape from contact with the other.

"Ah! That is so like you," says Lady Swansdown with a rather fierce
little laugh. "You pretend, pretend, pretend, from morning till night.
You intrench yourself behind your pride, and----"

"You know what you are doing, Beatrice," says Lady Baltimore, ignoring
this outburst completely, and speaking in a calm, level tone, yet with a
face like marble.

"Yes, and you know, too," says Lady Swansdown. Then, with an
overwhelming vehemence: "Why don't you do something? Why don't you
assert yourself?"

"I shall never assert myself," says Lady Baltimore slowly.

"You mean that whatever comes you will not interfere."

"That, exactly!" turning her eyes full on to the other's face with a
terrible disdain. "I shall never interfere in this--or any other of his
flirtations."

It is a sharp stab! Lady Swansdown winces visibly.

"What a woman you are!" cries she. "Have you ever thought of it, Isabel?
You are unjust to him--unfair. You"--passionately--"treat him as though
he were the dust beneath your feet, and yet you expect him to remain
immaculate, for your sake--pure as any acolyte--a thing of ice----"

"No," coldly. "You mistake me. I know too much of him to expect
perfection--nay, common decency from him. But you--it was you whom I
hoped to find immaculate."

"You expected too much, then. One iceberg in your midst is enough, and
that you have kindly suggested in your own person. Put me out of the
discussion altogether."

"Ah I You have made that impossible! I cannot do that. I have known you
too long, I have liked you too well. I have," with a swift, but terrible
glance at her, "loved you!"

"Isabel!"

"No, no! Not a word. It is too late now."

"True," says Lady. Swansdown, bringing back the arms she had extended
and letting them fall into a sudden, dull vehemence to her sides. Her
agitation is uncontrolled. "That was so long ago that, no doubt, you
have forgotten all about it. You," bitterly, "have forgotten a good
deal."

"And you," says Lady B