ke
that before, many times, at school. They were still screened from the
veranda by a scrub-supported dune. She could let herself go.

"You're a thief," she blurted out, trembling and out of all control for
once. "Not a full-blown thief because you don't steal to keep. But a
kleptomaniac who can't resist laying hands on other women's men. You
ought not to be allowed about loose. You're a danger, a trap. You have
no respect for yourself and none for friendship. Loyalty? You don't
know the meaning of the word. You're not to be trusted out of sight. I
despise you and never want to see you again."

Could this be Alice,--this little fury, white and tense, with clenched
hands and glinting eyes, animal-like in her fierce protectiveness?

Joan looked at her in amazement. Hadn't she already been hit hard
enough? But before she could speak Alice was in breath again. "You
can't answer me back,--even you, clever as you are. You've nothing to
say. That night at my house, when we had it out before, you said that
you were not interested in Gilbert. If that wasn't a cold-blooded lie
what was it? Your interest has been so great that you've never let him
alone since. You may not have called him deliberately, but when he came
you flaunted your sex in his face and teased him just to see him
suffer. You were flattered, of course, and your vanity swelled to see
him dogging your heels. There's a pretty expressive word for you and
your type, and you know it as well as I do. Let me pass, please."

Joan moved off the narrow board-walk without a word.

And Alice passed, but piqued by this unexpected silence, turned and
went for her once most intimate friend again. If she was callous and
still in her "Who Cares?" mood words should be said that could never be
forgotten.

"I am Mrs. Gray. My husband won't be back for several days," These were
the only words that rang in Joan's ears now. Alice might as well have
been talking to a stone.

"Things are coming to a head," Alice went on, unconsciously using
Gilbert's expression and Hosack's.

"And all the seeds that you've carelessly sown have grown into great
rank weeds. Ask Mrs. Jekyll what you've driven Martin into doing if
you're curious to know. She can tell you. Many people have seen. But if
you still don't care, don't trouble, because it's too late. Go a few
yards down there and look at that man bent double in the summer house.
If you do that and can still cry out 'Who Cares?' go on to the