a good time. And I'm a wonder;
everyone says so. The clubmen are so nice to me. Beatrice has done a
great deal, even if Steve hates us and acts as if we were poison....
He isn't happy."

Mary knew she was flushing. "Tell me some more about yourself."

But Trudy was not to be swerved from the other topic. "Beatrice makes
fun of him and she flirts shamefully. She has half a dozen flames all
the time. One was a common cabaret singer; she had him for tea when
Steve wasn't there. Now she is tired of him. You see, she had to have
someone to take Gay's place! I don't think Steve flirts with any one;
he isn't that sort. He's so intense he will break his heart in the
old-fashioned way and then go and be a socialist or something
dreadful. They scarcely see each other, and of course Beatrice's
father thinks everything is lovely and they are both perfection. He
just can't see the truth. Steve is a cave man and Beatrice is a
butterfly--I'm a fraud--and you're just an old dear!

"Yes, I am a fraud," she said, with sudden honesty. "I wouldn't come
to see you unless I wanted something. I want to talk to you with all
barriers down. I wish you had ever done some terrible thing or were
unhappy. I don't know why, Mary dear; it's not as horrid as it sounds.
I think it's because I want to know the real soul of you, and if you
showed me how you met troubles and trials, you being so good, I'd be
the better woman for it in meeting my problems."

It was truly a tired, oldish Trudy speaking. In the last sentence Trudy
had touched the greatest depths of which she was capable--causing Mary
to hint of her one deep secret.

"You're growing up, that's all. And I'm not good--not a bit good. Why,
Trudy, do you know I have had to fight hard--terribly hard about
something? I've never told any one before. I can't really tell what it
is!"

"Over what? You saint in white blouses and crisp ties, always smiling
and working and helping people! How have you battled? Tell me, tell
me!"

Mary came over to the sofa and sat beside Trudy, holding the white,
cold hands laden with foolish rings. "I loved and do love someone very
much who never did and never will love me. I must be near that person
daily, be useful to him, earn my own living by so doing--and I've made
myself be content of heart in spite of it and not live on starved
hopes and jealous dreams.... You see, I'm quite human."

Trudy drew her hands away. She had caused Mary to confirm her
suspicio