"Altogether?"
"Altogether. That is the way Lydia got him to consent to a divorce."
Not being so clever as some women, Mrs. Baxter looked puzzled. "I don't think I quite understand."
Mrs. Cole, who was enjoying thoroughly the gradual climax, sat upright, and facing her companion laid her hand on Mrs. Baxter's arm.
"Rachel," she said, "Lydia has sold Guendolen to her husband for two million dollars!"
Mrs. Baxter gave a gasp and a smothered shriek. "Two million dollars! The poor, dear child!"
The two ejaculations were not entirely consistent, for they revealed a divided interest. Mrs. Cole proceeded to face the second first.
"I've thought it all over and over,—I did not sleep until four, I was so excited—and there can't be any doubt that, under the circumstances, it's the best thing for the child. Her father dotes on her, and Lydia never has been able to forget that she is the living image of his mother. It was probably a struggle—she intimated as much—for it sounds so revolting, and a woman is supposed to be a lioness where her own flesh and blood are concerned. But when it came to a choice between Guen and Harry Spencer, she chose the one she cared for most."
"And she really gets two millions? Why, she will be as rich as before."
"Exactly. That's one of the interesting phases of the case. You see, they couldn't afford to marry, for neither of them had any money to speak of, though they were dead in love with each other. On the other hand, they had never done anything—so Lydia swears, and I believe her—which would entitle Herbert Maxwell to a divorce; so when Herbert invited her to leave the house, she replied that she would, and that she would take Guendolen with her. It just happened to occur to her, but the effect was marvellous. It enabled her to hold over Herbert's head the menace that, when parents who can't get on agree to separate, the courts are likely to give a baby girl to the mother, and oblige the father to be content with occasional reasonable visits. That frightened Herbert nearly to death. It seems he raged like a bull—poor man!—and threatened to shoot anyone who laid a finger on the child. Now comes the really clever part," continued Mrs. Cole, with an appreciative sigh. "Lydia had threatened to take Guen merely to gain time to think, but when she realized that she and Harry Spencer could never be happy unless she were willing to lead what the newspapers call a double life, she was at her wits' end. Then the idea suddenly occurred to her, and—horrible as it was at the first glance—it seemed the solution of everything. So she engaged a lawyer to open negotiations with her husband, and she went away to Mexico to give Herbert a chance to think over the proposal. She lived in terror of centipedes while she was gone, but there were lots of interesting old relics there, and one day she got a telegram from her lawyer announcing that the whole thing was settled. The necessary papers have been drawn, and as soon as the divorce is granted she will get the money. What do you think of that? Isn't it original and revolting, and yet, seeing that she is Lydia, comprehensible? And the most extraordinary thing of all is that, when one considers the matter dispassionately, it is not clear that it isn't the most sensible arrangement all round."