Fritzie turned sharply. "You? Why nothing but to spend your money and have a good time. Too bad about you, isn't it? You'll soon have a million a year for pin-money."
Alice shook her head. "A dozen millions a year would not interest me, Fritzie."
Fritzie laughed. "Don't be too sure, my dear; not too sure. Well," Fritzie's hands ran carefully over her hair for the last time, "there are a lot of men coming over from the Sound to-night. I may meet my fate!"
"I wish you may with all my heart, Fritzie. Why is it fates always come to people that don't want them?"
"Don't you believe it," cried Fritzie, "they do want them."
"They don't--not always."
"Don't you ever believe it--they only say they don't or think they don't!" she exclaimed, with accustomed vehemence.
Alice moved upon her pillow in impatient disapproval. "I hope you'll have a good time to-night."
MacBirney was ready and Fritzie joined him. The house grew quiet after they left. Annie brought up a tray and Alice took a cup of broth. She did not long resist the drowsiness that followed. She thought vaguely for a moment of a prayer for safety. But her married life had long excluded prayer. What good could come of praying to be kept unharmed while living in a state that had in itself driven her from prayer? That, at least, would be too absurd, and with a dull fear gnawing and dying alternately at her heart she fell asleep.
CHAPTER XXIII