ans nothing to you. But if you had any sense of
decency, Lester Kane, you would never let your sister be trapped into
coming into a place like this. I'm disgusted, that's all, and so will
the others be when they hear of it."

She turned on her heel and walked scornfully out, a withering look
being reserved for Jennie, who had unfortunately stepped near the door
of the dining-room. Vesta had disappeared. Jennie came in a little
while later and closed the door. She knew of nothing to say. Lester,
his thick hair pushed back from his vigorous face, leaned back moodily
on his pillow. "What a devilish trick of fortune," he thought. Now she
would go home and tell it to the family. His father would know, and
his mother. Robert, Imogene, Amy all would hear. He would have no
explanation to make--she had seen. He stared at the wall
meditatively.

Meanwhile Jennie, moving about her duties, also found food for
reflection. So this was her real position in another woman's eyes. Now
she could see what the world thought. This family was as aloof from
her as if it lived on another planet. To his sisters and brothers, his
father and mother, she was a bad woman, a creature far beneath him
socially, far beneath him mentally and morally, a creature of the
streets. And she had hoped somehow to rehabilitate herself in the eyes
of the world. It cut her as nothing before had ever done. The thought
tore a great, gaping wound in her sensibilities. She was really low
and vile in her--Louise's--eyes, in the world's eyes,
basically so in Lester's eyes. How could it be otherwise? She went
about numb and still, but the ache of defeat and disgrace was under it
all. Oh, if she could only see some way to make herself right with the
world, to live honorably, to be decent. How could that possibly be
brought about? It ought to be--she knew that. But how?

CHAPTER XXXIII

Outraged in her family pride, Louise lost no time in returning to
Cincinnati, where she told the story of her discovery, embellished
with many details. According to her, she was met at the door by a
"silly-looking, white-faced woman," who did not even offer to invite
her in when she announced her name, but stood there "looking just as
guilty as a person possibly could." Lester also had acted shamefully,
having outbrazened the matter to her face. When she had demanded to
know whose the child was he had refused to tell her. "It isn't mine,"
was all he would say.

"Oh dear, oh de