“I’m twenty-five.”

“Three years behind.  Well, on the whole I guess I’d stay married if I were you.  It’s so nice, if he’s still in love with you.  But the minute he isn’t, or makes any fuss, or gets ugly or mean, remember this.”  And her sweet, clear voice grew impressive.  “Remember then you can never be sure what he’s really doing in this town.  I know—­because they tell me—­and most of them are married men.  And second, and last and always—­remember, my dear, that with your figure and your face and your lovely hair which you do so well, you don’t have to put up with any man!  You can get right out whenever you please!  And the only trouble will be to choose your next from all the others who will come crowding about you!  And whether you make him marry you—­well—­I honestly think there’s not much choice.”  She rose and said, with a strange little smile.

“Now that I’ve had my little revenge on your beast of a husband for spoiling it all, when I wasn’t doing the least bit of harm and was leaving anyhow this week—­let’s say good-bye and each get to our packing.”

“She was once like me.  I could be like her,” thought Ethel late that night.  She had been lying awake for hours.  “I could be—­but I won’t!” she declared.  “She had read Shaw.  How funny! . . .  I think it’s a mighty big mistake to let young girls read Bernard Shaw.  Susette certainly shan’t!” Her lips compressed.  In a moment she was frowning.

“How easily Joe changed about from loving Amy to loving me.  Here he lies asleep at my side.  Where was he today?  What do I know? . . .  Oh, Ethel Lanier, don’t be a fool and let every cheap little woman you meet get you thinking things!  Such silly things! . . .  I do wish that odious Fanny Carr would get out of my life and stay out! . . .  You’d better be very careful, Joe.”  She had risen on her elbow now, and by the dim light from the window she could just see her husband’s face.  “Because if you’re not very good to me—­remember that a person whom you yourself consider one of the very best of her kind—­told me that I—­”

She dropped back.  All at once her face was burning.

“Oh, how I loathe all this!” she thought.  “And how silly and untrue!  Do you want to know where you and I are different, little Mrs. Grewe?  I’ll tell you!  I have a baby!  And when he grows up he’s going to have this same man still for a father!  So there!  I’m not sure about anything, even God, any more in this town—­it’s all a whirl!  But I’ve got a baby, and Susette, and for them I’m going to have a real home—­keep wide awake, make friends I’ll love—­and grow and learn and march in parades—­and go to the opera in a box—­and go to concerts, go abroad, shop in Paris—­love my husband—­be very gay—­make friends, friends—­I will, I will—­I won’t be downed—­I’ll beat this cat of a city—­

“However.  Now I’ll go to sleep-.”

CHAPTER XV