"It's a great mistake to talk that way, whether you mean it or

not," Mrs. Haviland said, after an uncomfortable moment, during

which her face flushed, and her breath began to come rather fast.

"But you're joking, of course; you're too sensible to take any

step that would only plunge you into fresh difficulties. Clarence

is very trying, I know--we all know that--but let's try to face

the situation sensibly, and not fly off the handle like this! Why,

Rachael dear, I can hardly believe it's your cool-headed,

reasonable self talking," she went on more quietly. "Don't--don't

even think about it! In the first place, you couldn't get it!"

"Oh, yes, I could. Clarence wouldn't contest it," Rachael said.

"He'd agree to anything to be rid of me. If not--if he wouldn't

agree to my filing suit under the New York law, I could establish

my residence in California or Nevada, and bring suit there. ..."

Mrs. Haviland gasped.

"Give up your home and your car and your maids for some small

hotel?" she questioned, with her favorite air of neatly placing

her fingertip upon the weak spot in her opponent's armor. "No

clubs, no dinners, none of your old friends--have you thought of

that?"

"You may imagine that I've thought of it from a good many angles,

Florence," Rachael said coldly, finding that what had been a mere

drifting idea was beginning to take rather definite form in her

mind. It was delightful to see the usually complacent and

domineering Florence so agitated and at a loss.

"I never dreamed--" Mrs. Haviland mused dazedly. "How long, in

Heaven's name, have you been thinking about it?"

"Oh, quite some time," said Rachael.

"Well, it's awful!" the other woman said. "It'll make the most

awful--and as if poor Clarence hadn't been all through it all

once! I declare it makes me sick! But I can't believe you're

serious. Rachael, think--think what it means!"

"It's a very serious thing," the other assented placidly. "But

Clarence has no one but himself to blame."

"Only Clarence won't BE blamed, my dear; men never are!" Mrs.

Haviland suggested unkindly. Rachael reddened.

"I don't care what they say or whom they blame!" she answered

proudly.

"Ah, well, my dear, we aren't any of us really indifferent to

criticism," the older woman said, watching closely the effect of

her words. "People are censorious--it's too bad, it's a pity--but

there you are. 'There must have been something we didn't

understand,' they say, 'there must be another man!'"

Rachael raised her head a little, and managed a smile.

"That's what they say," Mrs. Haviland went on, mildly triumphant.

"And no matter how brave or how independent a woman is, she

doesn't like THAT." There came to the speaker suddenly, under her

smooth flow of words, a sickening shock of realization: it was of

Rachael and Clarence she was speaking, her nearest relatives; it

was one of the bulwarks of her world that was threatened! Without

her knowledge her tone became less sure and more sincere. "For

God's sake, think what you are doing, dear," she said pleadingly;

"think of Carol and of us all! Don't drag us all through the

papers again! I know what Clarence is, poor wretched boy; he's

always had too much money, he's always had his own way. I know

what you put up with week in and week out--"




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