instead of hiding it. That
would be a real service to humanity, for this composite truth, assembled
and studied, must lead to wisdom; but men and women are such pitiful
cowards, such cringing toadies to convention. It makes me sick!"

He refilled his glass slowly and continued: "Why is our talk stupid--all
talk, so stupid that we have to get drunk in order to endure life? Why
are we bores--all of us? Because we are afraid to say the essential
things--what we know. We talk about what we don't know, like monkeys,
and call it civilized. By God, I'd like to start a society for the
dissemination of the truth that everybody knows and nobody tells!"

This phrase caught the fancy of Roberta Vallis whose fluttering,
frivolous soul was appealed to by any line of reasoning that tended to
put saints and sinners on the same level. She made Kendall repeat his
idea and then and there proposed that they adopt it. _A society for the
dissemination of the truth that everybody knows and nobody tells!_
Splendid! They must found this society--immediately. When should they
have the first meeting?

In this casual way the Confessional Club came into being, with no fixed
membership, no dues or constitution, no regular place or time of
meeting, and added one more to those amusing (sometimes inspiring)
little groups that have flourished in Greenwich Village. It certainly
had a real idea behind it. "We are loaded with human dynamite. We tell
the truth that is never told," became the watchword of the society.

All of which bears upon the present narrative because Roberta Vallis had
arranged to have one of these self-revealing seances as a feature of her
party; and she insisted that Penelope contribute an emotional
experience.

"You _must_ confess something, Pen, my sweet one, in order to be in the
spirit of the evening," she explained with bubbling exuberance, "any
little thing. We all do it. Only be careful you don't make that
architect of yours jealous," she teased. "Think up a classy confession,
something weird--understand? Don't look so darned serious. It's only for
fun. You can fake up something, dearie, if you're afraid to tell the
truth. Why, what's the matter?"

Penelope's face had changed startlingly, and was now overcast by sombre
memories--by fears. Why had those lightly spoken words moved her so
strangely? Afraid to tell the truth! Was she afraid? With sinking heart
she recalled that message of Seraphine's exalted spirit--_Penelope