“Don’t worry about Mother,” Warren Gregory said with a confidence that in this moment of excitement and exhilaration he almost felt was justified.  “Mother’s a dear!”

That was all their conversation.  When they entered the clubhouse Doctor Gregory turned toward the swimming pool and Rachael was instantly drawn into a game of bridge.  She played like a woman in a dream, was joined by Billy, went home in a dream, and presently found herself and her husband fellow guests at a dreamlike dinner-party.

Why not?—­why not?—­why not?  The question drummed in head and heart day and night.  Why not end bondage, and taste freedom?  Why not end unhappiness, and try joy?  She had done her best to make her first marriage a success, and she had failed.  Why not, with all kindness, with all generous good wishes, end the long experiment?  Who, in all her wide range of acquaintances, would think the less of her for the obviously sensible step?  The world recognized divorce as an indispensable institution:  one marriage in every twelve was dissolved.

And remarriage, a brilliant second marriage, was universally approved.  Even such a stern old judge as Warren’s mother counted among her acquaintances the divorced and remarried.  To reappear, triumphant, beloved, beautiful, before one’s old world—­

But no—­of this Rachael would not permit herself to think.  Time alone could tell what her next step must be.  The only consideration now must be that, even if Warren Gregory had never existed, even if there were no other man than Clarence Breckenridge in the world, she must take the step.  Better poverty, and work, and obscurity, if need be, with freedom, than all Clarence could offer her in this absurd and empty bondage.

Once firmly decided, she began to chafe against the delays that made an immediate announcement of her intentions unwise.  If a thing was to be done, as well do it quickly, thought Rachael, as she listened patiently to the vacillating decisions of Carol and her father in regard to the Villalonga camping plan.  At one time Clarence completely abandoned the idea, throwing the watchful and silent Rachael into utter consternation.  Carol was alternately bored by the plan and wearily interested in it.  Their characteristic absorption in their own comfort was a great advantage to Rachael at this particular juncture; she had been included in Mrs. Villalonga’s invitation as a matter of course, but such was the life of the big, luxurious establishment known as the “camp” that all three of the Breckenridges, and three more of them had there been so many, might easily have spent six weeks therein without crossing each other’s paths more than once or twice a week.  It never occurred to either Carol or her father to question Rachael closely as to her pleasure in the matter.  They took it for granted that she would be there if no pleasanter invitation interfered exactly as they themselves would.