ng."

"What was that?"

"She said that Mrs. Chepstow had sold herself body and soul to the Devil
for material things; that she was the typical greedy woman."

"And did she indicate exactly what she meant by the typical greedy
woman?"

"Yes. I will say for her that she was plain-spoken. She said: 'The woman
without ideals, without any feeling for home and all that home means,
the one man, children, peace found in unselfishness, rest in work for
others; the woman who betrays the reputation of her sex by being
absolutely concentrated upon herself, and whose desires only extend to
the vulgar satisfactions brought by a preposterous expenditure of money
on clothes, jewels, yachts, houses, motors, everything that rouses
wonder and admiration in utterly second-rate minds.'"

"There are such women."

"Perhaps there are. But, my dear Isaacson, one has only to look at Mrs.
Chepstow--with unprejudiced eyes, mind you--to see that she could never
be one of them. Even if I had never spoken to her, I should know that
she must have ideals, could never not have them, whatever her life is,
or has been. Physiognomy cannot utterly lie. Look at the line of that
face. Don't you see what I mean?"

They both gazed for a moment at the lonely woman.

"There is, of course, a certain beauty in Mrs. Chepstow's face," the
Doctor said.

"I am not speaking of beauty; I am speaking of ideality, of purity.
Don't you see what I mean? Now, be honest."

"Yes, I do."

"Ah!" said Armine.

The exclamation sounded warmly pleased.

"But that look, I think, is a question merely of line, and of the way
the hair grows. Do you mean to say that you would rather judge a woman
by that than by the actions of her life?"

"No. But I do say that if you examined the life of a woman with a face
like that--the real life--you would be certain to find that it had not
been devoid of actions such as you would expect, actions illustrating
that look of ideality which any one can see. What does Mrs. Derringham
really know of Mrs. Chepstow? She is not personally acquainted with her,
even. She acknowledged that. She has never spoken to her, and doesn't
want to."

"That scarcely surprises me, I confess," the Doctor remarked.

There was a definite dryness in his tone, and Armine noticed it.

"You are prejudiced, I see," he said.

In his voice there was a sound of disappointment.

"I don't exactly know why, but I have always looked upon you as one of
the most fa