It could not be that now. Something—the raucous spirit of the times, the noisy unbelief of the age, or perhaps her own cloistral spirit—had ruined that first belief. But her marriage would go on and she was going on with it. Not passively, but actively.
Going on with marriage. Because it was her business to go on with her husband, with her children—even if she must make concessions.
Idly, to still her thoughts, she opened the magazine lying on her lap. From the page before her a full length picture of Fliss stared up at her and the caption seemed to leap at Cecily in capital letters.
“The beautiful Mrs. Allenby, wife of Senator Allenby, who has been such a success in Washington this season, relies for her success not only on her beauty but on her intellect. Mrs. Allenby has studied the modern woman’s problems deeply. She says that the modern marriage——”
Cecily closed the book with disgust. The old spirit was aflame again—resentment that this sort of thing should be tolerated, that marriage should be made so cheap. She half pushed the magazine out of the window to drop it to the tracks below.
Then she pulled it back and, looking at it thoughtfully for a moment, laid it down beside her to show to Dick.
THE END
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
said Cicely, unperturbed=> said Cicely, unperturbed {pg 50}