ng at nothing there in the darkness while the slow tears fell.

Never before had she known loneliness. A man had made her understand
it. Never before had she known bitterness. A man had taught it to her.
Never again should any man do what this man had done to her! She was
learning resentment.

All men should be the same to her hereafter. All men should stand
already condemned. Never again should one among them betray her mind
to reveal itself, persuade her heart to response, her lips to
sacrifice their sweetness and their pride, her soul to stir in its
sleep, awake, and answer. And for what the minds and hearts of men
might bring upon themselves, let men be responsible. Their
inclinations, offers, protests, promises as far as they regarded
herself could never again affect her. Let man look to himself; his
desires no longer concerned her. Let him keep his distance--or take
his chances. And there were no chances.

Athalie was learning resentment.

* * * * *

Somebody was knocking. Athalie rose from the floor, turned on the
lights, dried her eyes, went slowly to the door, and opened it.

A large, fat, pallid woman stood in the hallway. Her eyes were as
washed out as her faded, yellowish hair; and her kimono needed
washing.

"Good evening," she said cordially, coming in without any
encouragement from Athalie and settling her uncorseted bulk in the
arm-chair. "My name is Grace Bellmore,--Mrs. Grace Bellmore. I have
the rear rooms under yours. If you're ever lonely come down and talk
it over. Neighbours are not what they might be in this house. Look out
for the Meehan, too. I'd call her a cat only I like cats. Say, that's
a fine one on your bed there. Persian? Oh, Angora--" here she fished
out a cigarette from the pocket of her wrapper, found a match,
scratched it on the sole of her ample slipper, and lighted her
cigarette.

"Have one?" she inquired. "No? Don't like them? Oh, well, you'll come
to 'em. Everything comes easy when you're lonely. _I_ know. You don't
have to tell me. God! I get so sick of my own company sometimes--"

She turned her head to gaze about her, twisting her heavy, creased
neck as far as the folds of fat permitted: "You had your nerve with
you when you took this place. I knew Mrs. Del Garmo. I warned her,
too. But she was a bone-head. A woman can't be careless in this town.
And when it comes to men--say, Miss Greensleeve, I want to know their
names before they a