"For my sake!" marvelled Stephanie.
"It's a lot easier, you know," Gladys nodded, "to resume the old life, than to cut out a new one—now."
"Perhaps so—but how long would the reconciliation last?"
"Long enough for Society to forget the past. If the husband forgives, who else may say a word?"
"It may be the way of expediency; it is not my way," answered Stephanie. "However, if Harry Lorraine had made the slightest sign of forgiveness—of recognition when he saw me—even if he had but bowed, it might be different. Now, I am done with him forever."
"Don't you think you put him to a rather hard test?" asked Gladys. "Without a word of warning you encountered him on the Club-house piazza, before the assembled mob, and he—failed. Could you expect anything else from one of his character?"
"Possibly not," admitted Stephanie, as she daintily flicked the ash from her tiny cigarette. "He is true to type, and it is the type to which I object. Between taking him back (assuming that he would have me back) or fighting it out alone, I much prefer to fight it out alone. It may require longer, but it hasn't the drag.... I had thought of going elsewhere, but that will only postpone the struggle a little while and will make it all the harder when it comes—for sooner or later they are sure to find me out. I even considered changing my name—that, too, has innumerable obstacles, with the necessity of living a lie and the constant fear of being detected." She flung her cigarette out of the window and flexed her silken knees under her. "So, on the whole, I thought it better to return and fight. I can down it soonest, if at all, at my home; and then it will stay down. I have a nasty thing to confront. I've been all kinds of a fool, and no one realizes it more than myself; but I'm not going to be weighted down with Harry Lorraine, nor to sacrifice myself again for him—no not even for a little while, not even for my rehabilitation. He didn't save me when he might, and I'm not going to give him another chance. I prefer to make my way alone without any aid from him."
"Without any aid from him, possibly, but not alone," Gladys replied. "Some of your friends are standing by you, and more will follow—many more, I hope, and soon. I shall ask Margaret Middleton, Arabella Rutledge, Helen Burleston, and Sophia Westlake to lunch with us Tuesday. They will do as a starter, I think."
"My dear Gladys!" Stephanie exclaimed, "I don't deserve such friendship as yours. I am——"
The other interrupted her with a gesture.