altimore, very calmly, "what have you not
forgotten--your self-respect," deliberately, "among other things."

"Take care; take care!" says Lady Swansdown in a low tone. She has
turned furiously upon her.

"Why should I take care?" She throws up her small bead scornfully. "Have
I said one word too much?"?

"Too much indeed," says Lady Swansdown distinctly, but faintly. She
turns her head, but not her eyes in Isabel's direction. "I'm afraid you
will have to endure for one day longer," she says in a low voice; "after
that you shall bid me a farewell that shall last forever!"

"You have come to a wise decision," says Lady Baltimore, immovably.

There is something so contemptuous in her whole bearing that it maddens
the other.

"How dare you speak to me like that," cries she with sudden violence not
to be repressed. "You of all others! Do you think you are not in fault
at all--that you stand blameless before the world?"

The blood has flamed into her pale cheeks, her eyes are on fire. She
advances toward Lady Baltimore with such a passion of angry despair in
look and tone, that involuntarily the latter retreats before her.

"Who shall blame me?" demands Lady Baltimore haughtily.

"I--I for one! Icicle that you are, how can you know what love means?
You have no heart to feel, no longing to forgive. And what has he done
to you? Nothing--nothing that any other woman would not gladly condone."

"You are a partisan," says Lady Baltimore coldly. "You would plead his
cause, and to me! You are violent, but that does not put you in the
right. What do you know of Baltimore that I do not know? By what right
do you defend him?"

"There is such a thing as friendship!"

"Is there?" says the other with deep meaning. "Is there, Beatrice? Oh!
think--think!" A little bitter smile curls the corners of her lips.
"That you should advocate the cause of friendship to me," says she, her
words falling with cruel scorn one by one slowly from her lips.

"You think me false," says Lady Swansdown. She is terribly agitated.
"There was an old friendship between us--I know that--I feel it. You
think me altogether false to it?"

"I think of you as little as I can help," says Isabel, contemptuously.
"Why should I waste a thought on you?"

"True! Why indeed! One so capable of controlling her emotions as you are
need never give way to superfluous or useless thoughts. Still, give one
to Baltimore. It is our last conversation together, therefore