the elevator, and were but a
moment in reaching that apartment.

Peter spoke the moment the door was closed. "Madame," he said, "you saw
that scene. Spare his wife and child? He is not worth your anger."

"Ah, Ciel!" cried Celestine, emotionally. "Do you think so lowly of me,
that you can imagine I would destroy your sacrifice? Your romantic, your
dramatic, _mon Dieu!_ your noble sacrifice? Non, non. Celestine Lacour
could never do so. She will suffer cruelty, penury, insults, before she
behaves so shamefully, so perfidiously."

Peter did not entirely sympathize with the Frenchwoman's admiration for
the dramatic element, but he was too good a lawyer not to accept an
admission, no matter upon what grounds. He held out his hand promptly.
"Madame," he said, "accept my thanks and admiration for your generous
conduct."

Celestine took it and shook it warmly.

"Of course," said Peter. "Mr. D'Alloi owes you an ample income."

"Ah!" cried Celestine, shrugging her shoulders. "Do not talk of him--I
leave it to you to make him do what is right."

"And you will return to France?"

"Yes, yes. If you say so?" Celestine looked at Peter in a manner known
only to the Latin races. Just then a side door was thrown open, and a
boy of about twelve years of age dashed into the room, followed by a
French poodle.

"Little villain!" cried Celestine. "How dare you approach without
knocking? Go. Go. Quickly."

"Pardon, Madame," said the child. "I thought you still absent."

"Is that the child?" asked Peter.

"Yes," said Celestine.

"Does he know?"

"Nothing. I do not tell him even that I am his mother."

"Then you are not prepared to give him a mother's care and tenderness?"

"Never. I love him not. He is too like his father. And I cannot have it
known that I am the mother of a child of twelve. It would not be
believed, even." Celestine took a look at herself in the tall mirror.

"Then I suppose you would like some arrangement about him?"

"Yes."

Peter stayed for nearly an hour with the woman. He stayed so long, that
for one of the few times in his life he was late at a dinner engagement.
But when he had left Celestine, every detail had been settled. Peter did
not have an expression of pleasure on his face as he rode down-town, nor
was he very good company at the dinner which he attended that evening.

The next day did not find him in any better mood. He went down-town, and
called on an insurance company and talked for a