not quite a Kipling vampire--no--a vampire that wants to
crunch the bones--or do vampires crunch bones? I believe they only act
like babies with bottles--nasty of them, isn't it?--But one gets to
a definite age--and Sargent's a dear but he has all the defects of a
husband--and things begin slipping away, slipping away--"

She made a motion of sifting between her hands, letting fall light
grains of a precious substance that the hands were no longer young
enough to keep.

"And life goes so queerly and keeps moving on like a tramp in front of
a policeman till you've started being gray and taking off your corset
every time you're alone because you like being comfortable better than
having a waist-line--and you've never had anything to settle you," her
face twitched, "not children--nor even the security of marriage--nothing
but work that only interests part of you--and this--"

She spread her hands at the apartment.

"Well--what a lot of nonsense I'm talking--and keeping Mr. Billett out
in the car when he's sure he has pneumonia already--how unkind of me.
You must think me a very immoral old woman, don't you, Oliver?"

"I think you're very sporting," said Oliver, truthfully.

"Not very. If I really _wanted_ Mr. Billett, you see." Her eyes
sparkled. "I'm afraid you wouldn't think me sporting at all--in that
case. But then I don't think you'd have been able to--save--anybody I
really wanted as you did Mr. Billett." She spoke slowly. "Even with that
very capable looking right hand. But in case you're still worried--"

"I'm not, really."

She paid no attention.

"In case you're still worried--what I told Mr. Billett was true. In the
first place, Sargent would never believe me, anyway. In the second place
it would mean breaking with Sargent--and do you know I'm rather fond of
Sargent in my own way?--and a thing like that--well, you saw how he
was tonight--it would mean more things like revolvers and I _hate_
revolvers. And hurting Sargent--and ruining Mr. Billett who is a
genuinely nice boy and can't help being a Puritan, though I never shall
forget the way he looked in those towels. Still, I'm rather fond of him
too--oh, I'm perfectly unashamed about it, it's quite in an aunty way
now and he'll never see me again if he can help it.

"And making Sargent's daughter--who must be charming from what I hear of
her--but charming or not, she happens to be a woman and I have a feeling
that, being a woman, life will hurt her qu