feelings at the end. And already she
was beginning to scorn herself for having paraded them.

"Oh-so-little!" she mocked. She did not mean to be derisive. "Just
that! Just a home--just a man--a real man--content!"

"Would you be?" Cecille asked the question unaware of the other's irony.

"Say, who do you think I am," she asked, "to try to dictate terms like
that to life? _What_ do you think I am? A champion? Because that's
what you're talking now. The whole purse--or nothing! I _know_ my
limits. I'm going to be glad to get a fair percentage split for my
share. A home! A man! Content! I get you at last, Cecille. It's you
who'd better come to. For whether you know it or not, you're talking
winner--take--all!"

She rose then. She shrugged her arms and stretched them high above her
head, and all visible emotion slipped from her like a discarded garment.

"And that's _that_!" she stated easily. She went back to the mirror and
adjusted her veil. Then came a brief and awkward moment.

"Well, I guess I'll be going," she said. "The rent's paid a month in
advance. Don't let that Shylock landlord gyp you."

"I won't," said Cecille.

"Well, I guess I'll be going." She picked up her bag. They did not kiss
each other.

"Well--so-long."

"I--I wish you--" Cecille checked herself. She had been about to say I
wish you happiness. She meant that, yet clumsily she changed it.

"I wish you luck."

At that Felicity paused.

"Does this hat look all right?"

Cecille nodded. And then she was gone.

* * * * * *

So Felicity passes. No dark river. No swift oblivion. No agony of
remorse. Those who may feel that her history is incomplete, that they
have been robbed of their full meed of vindictive satisfaction, I must
refer back to an earlier paragraph. And to those who may say, Here is a
dangerous departure from the formula for such tales, there is only one
honest retort. Felicity isn't a figment of fancy. Felicity's from the
life.

* * * * * *

Cecille sat quiet after Felicity had gone, until darkness crept into the
room. She rose then, mechanically, and prepared and ate some supper.
Later Perry Blair came and she found that pressing as her own problem
seemed she could still think first of him. She would not tell him now of
Felicity's dereliction. He needed a single mind to face his coming
struggle. He would learn of it soon e