n. A
wonderful face and brilliant eyes were exposed to the quiet curiosity of
those who looked that way, and they were everybody. Floyd Vanderlip was
rather confused. The situation demanded instant action on the part of a
man who was not beyond his depth, while _he_ hardly knew where he was. He
stared helplessly about him. Mrs. Eppingwell was perplexed. She could
not comprehend. An explanation was forthcoming, somewhere, and Mrs.
McFee was equal to it.

"Mrs. Eppingwell," and her Celtic voice rose shrilly, "it is with great
pleasure I make you acquainted with Freda Moloof, _Miss_ Freda Moloof, as
I understand."

Freda involuntarily turned. With her own face bared, she felt as in a
dream, naked, upon her turned the clothed features and gleaming eyes of
the masked circle. It seemed, almost, as though a hungry wolf-pack
girdled her, ready to drag her down. It might chance that some felt pity
for her, she thought, and at the thought, hardened. She would by far
prefer their scorn. Strong of heart was she, this woman, and though she
had hunted the prey into the midst of the pack, Mrs. Eppingwell or no
Mrs. Eppingwell, she could not forego the kill.

But here Mrs. Eppingwell did a strange thing. So this, at last, was
Freda, she mused, the dancer and the destroyer of men; the woman from
whose door she had been turned. And she, too, felt the imperious
creature's nakedness as though it were her own. Perhaps it was this, her
Saxon disinclination to meet a disadvantaged foe, perhaps, forsooth, that
it might give her greater strength in the struggle for the man, and it
might have been a little of both; but be that as it may, she did do this
strange thing. When Mrs. McFee's thin voice, vibrant with malice, had
raised, and Freda turned involuntarily, Mrs. Eppingwell also turned,
removed her mask, and inclined her head in acknowledgment.

It was another flashing, eternal second, during which these two women
regarded each other. The one, eyes blazing, meteoric; at bay,
aggressive; suffering in advance and resenting in advance the scorn and
ridicule and insult she had thrown herself open to; a beautiful, burning,
bubbling lava cone of flesh and spirit. And the other, calm-eyed, cool-
browed, serene; strong in her own integrity, with faith in herself,
thoroughly at ease; dispassionate, imperturbable; a figure chiselled from
some cold marble quarry. Whatever gulf there might exist, she recognized
it not. No bridging