as sharp as if the teeth of a beast had fastened in her heart,
pierced Virginia while she stood there, barring the door with her hands.
Her peace, which had seemed indestructible a moment ago, was shattered
by a sensation of violent anger--not against Abby, not against Oliver,
not even against the gossiping old women of Dinwiddie--but against her
own blindness, her own inconceivable folly! At the moment the
civilization of centuries was stripped from her, and she was as simple
and as primitive as a female of the jungle. On the surface she was still
calm, but to her own soul she felt that she presented the appalling
spectacle of a normal woman turned fury. It was one of those instants
that are so unexpected, so entirely unnatural and out of harmony with
the rest of life, that they obliterate the boundaries of character which
separate the life of the individual from the ancient root of the race.
Not Virginia, but the primeval woman in her blood, shrieked out in
protest as she saw her hold on her mate threatened. The destruction of
the universe, as long as it left her house standing in its bit of
ground, would have overwhelmed her less utterly.

"But what on earth can they say, mother? It was all my fault. I made him
go. He never lifted his finger for Abby."

"I know, darling, I know. Of course, Oliver is not to blame, but people
will talk, and I think Abby ought to have known better."

For an instant only Virginia hesitated. Then something stronger than the
primitive female in her blood--the spirit of a lady--spoke through her
lips.

"I don't believe Abby was to blame, either," she said.

"But women ought to know better, Jinny, and Abby is nearly thirty."

"She always wanted me to go, mother. I don't believe she thought for a
minute that she was doing anything wrong. Abby is a little coarse, but
she's perfectly good. Nobody will make me think otherwise."

"Well, it can't go on, dear. You must stop Oliver's riding with her. And
Mrs. Carrington says she hears that he is going to Atlantic City with
them in General Goode's private car on Thursday."

"Abby asked me, too, but of course I couldn't leave the children."

"Of course not. Oliver must give it up, too. Oh, Jinny, a scandal, even
where one is innocent, is so terrible. A woman--a true woman--would
endure death rather than be talked about. I remember your cousin Jane
Pendleton made an unhappy marriage, and her husband used to get drunk
and beat her and even car