ightly, almost gaily, presented. Her innocence of so much
that they implied, and her familiarity with divorce as a common
incident of life, alike protected her from the shock. But what really
struck terror to her heart was something that she realized with the
look that the hideous little man now bent upon her: the mutual
understanding; the rights once relinquished which might now be urged
again; the memory of things past, were all suggested in this look. She
thought of Ludlow, with his lofty ideals and his great gifts, and then
she looked at this little grinning, leering wretch, and remembered how
he had once put his arm round her and kissed her. It seemed
impossible--too cruel and unjust to be. She was scarcely more than a
child, then, and that foolish affair had been more her mother's folly
than her own. It flashed upon her that unless she put away the shame of
it, the shame would weaken her and master her. But how to assert
herself she did not know till he gave her some pretext.

"Well," he sighed, rolling his head against the back of the sofa, and
looking up at the chandelier, "sometimes a man has more freedom than
he's got any use for. I don't know as I want to be back under Tweet's
thumb, but I guess the Scripture was about right where it says it ain't
good for a man to be alone. When d'you leave Pymantoning, Nelie?"

"It makes no difference when I left." Cornelia got to her feet,
trembling. "And I'll thank you not to call me by my first name, Mr.
Dickerson. I don't know why you should do it, and I don't like it."

"Oh, all right, all right," said Mr. Dickerson. "I don't blame you. I
think you're perfectly excusable to feel the way you do. But some time,
when I get a chance, I should like to tell you about it, and put it to
you in the right light----"

"I don't want to hear about it," cried Cornelia fiercely. "And I won't
have you thinking that it's because I ever did care for you. I didn't.
And I was only too glad when you got married. And I don't hate you, for
I despise you too much; and I always did. So!"

She stamped her foot for a final emphasis, but she was aware of her
words all having fallen effectless, like blows dealt some detestable
thing in a dream.

"Good! Just what I expected and deserved," said Mr. Dickerson, with a
magnanimity that was appalling. "I did behave like a perfect scallawag
to you, Nie; but I was young then, and Tweet got round me before I
knew. I can explain----"

"I don't want