“It isn’t the drinking and headaches and general stupidity in themselves, you know,” Rachael said, reverting to her original argument, “but it’s the atrocious UNNECESSITY of it!  I don’t mind Clarence’s doing as other men do, I certainly don’t mind his caring so much for his daughter”—­her fine brows drew together—­ “but where do I come in?” she demanded with a quizzical smile.  “What’s my life?  I ask only decency and civility, and I don’t get it.  The very servants in this house pity me—­they see it all.  When Clarence isn’t himself, he needs me; when he is, he is all for Billy.  I must apologize for breaking engagements; people don’t ask us out any more, and no wonder!  I have to coax money out of him for bills; Billy has her own check-book.  I have to keep quiet when I’m boiling all over.  I have to defend myself when I know I’m bitterly, cruelly wronged!”

Neither woman had any scruples about the subject under discussion, but even to Elinor Rachael had never spoken so freely before, and the guest, desperately attempting to remember every word for the delectation of her family and friends later on, felt herself at once honored and thrilled.

“Rachael—­but why do you stand it?”

Mrs. Breckenridge threw her a look full of all conscious forbearance.

“Well, what would you do?”

“Well.  I’d”—­Miss Vanderwall arrested the hand with which she was carefully spreading her lips with red paste, to fling it, with a large gesture, into the air—­“I’d—­why don’t you get out?  Simply drop it all?” she asked.

“For several reasons,” the other woman returned promptly with a sort of hard, bright pride.  “One very excellent one is that I haven’t one penny.  But I tell you, Elinor, if I knew how to put my hand on about a thousand dollars a year—­there are little towns in France, I have friends in London—­well”—­and with a sudden straightening of her whole body Rachael Breckenridge visibly rallied herself—­“well, what’s the use of talking?” she said.  But, as she rose abruptly, Elinor saw the glint of tears on her lashes, and said to herself with a sort of pleased terror that things between Clarence and Rachael must be getting serious indeed.

She admired Mrs. Breckenridge deeply; more than that, the younger woman’s friendship and patronage were valuable assets to Miss Vanderwall.  But the social circle of Belvedere Hills was a small circle, and Elinor had spent every one of her thirty-five summers, or a part of every one, in just this limited group.  There was little malice in her pleasure at getting this glimpse behind the scenes in Rachael’s life; she would repeat her friend’s confidence, later, with the calm of a person doing the accepted and expected thing, with the complacence of one who proves her right to other revelations from her listeners in turn.  It was by such proof judiciously displayed that Elinor held her place in the front ranks of her own select little group of gossips and intimates.  She wished the Breckenridges no harm, but if there were dark elements in their lives, Elinor enjoyed being the person to witness them.  Thoughtfully adding a bloom to her cheeks with her friend’s exquisite powder, Miss Vanderwall reflected sagely that, when one came to think of it, it must really be rather rotten to be married to Clarence Breckenridge.