"From Albert."
"I no longer know him."
This was said in a hard peremptory tone.
"It concerns your children—their custody. Have you lost your confidence in me?"
She could not mistrust his intentions. Either from curiosity or because the past still had a greater hold upon her than even she herself realized, she brusquely consented without further request on his part.
"Very well, in an hour you can find me at my mother's house, at my home—"
And her exit, with her mother as a diligent chaperon on one side, and on the other, her father, who had understood the necessity for giving her his public support, was an apotheosis befitting people of distinction.
This departure relieved the strain. Society, lavish with its compliments and flatteries, must occasionally forsake this state of exaggerated enthusiasm which is rather wearing to all concerned. But it is not for the purpose of regaining the truth. Society sees everything in a distorted fashion and manages so to confuse issues, that after completely justifying its victims to the world, it turns and rends them.
"Do they know her name?" inquired Mme. Bonnard-Basson timidly. She was a wealthy parvenu, whose money had been made in cement, and who was received in society for her wealth, her pleasant ways and her meekness.
"Whose name?"