; that's a weakness in me. I never could and never shall. Something
silly inside of me invariably finds excuses for people, whatever they
are or do. I'm always saying to myself, 'They don't understand. If they
really knew all the circumstances, they wouldn't hate me. Perhaps they'd
even pity me.' Absurd! A mistake! I know that. Such feelings stand in
the way of success, because they prevent one striking out in one's own
defence. And if one doesn't strike out for oneself, nobody will strike
out for one."

"I don't think that's quite true," Armine said.

"Oh, yes, it is. If you're pugnacious, people think you're plucky, and
they're ready to stand up for you. Whereas, if you forgive easily,
you're not easily forgiven."

"If that is so," Armine said, "why don't you change your tactics?"

As he said this, he glanced at Isaacson, and the Doctor understood that
he was seeking to display to his friend what he believed to be this
woman's character.

"Simply because I can't. I am what I am. I can't change myself, and I
can't act in defiance of the little interior voice. I often try to, for
I don't pretend in the least to be virtuous; but I have to give in. I
know it's weakness. I know the world would laugh at it. But--_que
voulez-vous?_--some of us are the slaves of our souls."

The last sentence seemed almost to be blurted out, so honestly was it
said. But instantly, as if regretting a sincere indiscretion, she added:

"Doctor Isaacson, what an idiot you must think me!"

"Why, Mrs. Chepstow?"

"For saying that. You, of course, think we are the slaves of our
bodies."

"I certainly do not think you an idiot," he could not help saying, with
significance.

"Isaacson is not an ordinary doctor," said Armine. "You needn't be
afraid of him."

"I don't think I'm afraid of anybody, but one doesn't want to make
oneself absurd. And I believe I often am absurd in rating the body too
low. What a conversation!" she added, smiling. "But, as I was all alone
in the crowd, I was thinking of all sorts of things. A crowd makes one
think tremendously, if one is quite alone. It stimulates the brain, I
suppose. So I was thinking a lot of rubbish over my solitary meal."

She looked at the two men apologetically.

"_La femme pense_," she said, and she shrugged her shoulders.

Armine drew his chair a little nearer to her, and this action suddenly
made Doctor Isaacson realize the power that still dwelt in this woman,
the power to govern