real soul to lodge in.
It is all like that," setting her foot viciously on a fallen apple. "Rotten
to the core!"

A shadow of disgust passed over his handsome face. Van Ness had a
fastidious taste. Her melodramatic poses had been familiar to him for
years: they always had annoyed and bored him.

"What is it that brings you here? A woman?"

He hesitated a moment: "Yes."

"This yellow-haired girl? You mean to marry her?"

"I may marry her," cautiously.

Their eyes met. "I did not think you would push me so far," she said
thoughtfully.

"It is to your interest not to interfere. You are mad, Charlotte. But you
never lose sight of the dirty dollar in your madness."

"That is for Ted's sake," quietly. "I dislike that girl. She's so damnably
clean! She's of the sort that would walk straight on and trample me under
foot like a slug if she knew what I was. I owe her an old grudge, too. But
that's nothing," laughing good-humoredly. "It was the most ridiculous
scene! But it lost me a year's income. She nearly recognized me to-day. On
the whole, I'll not interfere. Marry her. She deserves just such a
punishment. By the way, there is my card. You can send the back payments
that are due, to-morrow."

Van Ness received the card and command with a smile and bow, meant for the
bystanders: "Of course, Charlotte, you understand that these payments must
soon stop. I shall rid myself of any legal claims you have upon me before
marrying another woman."

"Oh, I've no doubt you'll walk strictly according to law! You will not run
the risk of a lawsuit, much less prosecution, even for Miss Swendon. You
will have no trouble in gaining your freedom from me," shrilly.

"None whatever," stripping the leaves from a willow wand. She left him
without a word, going to the house.

Mrs. Wilde had just summoned her carriage. "Where is the princess?" looking
lazily around.

"Is Madame Trebizoff a guest in your house?" asked Jane suddenly.

"Yes."

"I will call her. I have something to say to her."

She went to meet her with the grave motherly firmness with which she would
have gone to give a scolding to black Buff or a lazy chambermaid. The
princess, crossing the grass, slender, dark, sparkling, had no doubt of her
own smouldering passionate hate against her. It was the proper thing for
Hagar to hate Sarah. Life was thin and insipid without great remorses,
revenges, loves. The poor little creature was always aiming at them, and
falling