"Masters was pulled up in the nick of time. A year more of that horrible life he was leading and he would have been either unreclaimable or dead. It makes me believe in Fate—and I am a good Churchwoman."
"It's a sad world," commented Mrs. Ballinger with a sigh. "I confess I don't understand it. When I think of Sally—"
Mrs. Montgomery, a good kind woman, whose purse was always open to her less fortunate friends, shook her head. "I do not like such a sequel. I agree with Alexina and Charlotte. They disgraced themselves and our proud little Society; they should have been more severely punished. Possibly they will be."
"I doubt it," said Mrs. Bascom drily. "And not only because I am a woman of the world and have looked at life with both eyes open, but because Masters had success in him. I'll wager he's had his troubles all in one great landslide. And Madeleine was born to be some man's poem. The luxe binding got badly torn and stained, but no doubt she's got a finer one than ever, and is unchanged—or even improved—inside."
"Oh, do let me get in a word edgeways," cried young Mrs. Abbott. "Tell me, Mamma—what does Madeleine look like? Has she lost her beauty?"
"She looked to me more beautiful than ever. I'd vow Masters thinks so."
"Has she wrinkles? Lines?"
"Not one. Have we grown old since she left us? It's not so many years ago?"
"Oh, I know. But after all she went through…. How was she dressed?"
"What are her favorite colors?"