the value of his personality, that his private desires and opinions were as nothing in the face of a public conviction; that he was wrong. The race
spirit, or social avatar, the "Zeitgeist" as the Germans term it, manifested itself as something having a system in charge, and the organisation of
society began to show itself to him as something based on possibly a
spiritual, or, at least, superhuman counterpart. He could not fly in the face of it. He could not deliberately ignore its mandates. The people of his
time believed that some particular form of social arrangement was
necessary, and unless he complied with that he could, as he saw, readily
become a social outcast. His own father and mother had turned on him—
his brother and sisters, society, his friends. Dear heaven, what a to- do this action of his had created! Why, even the fates seemed adverse. His real
estate venture was one of the most fortuitously unlucky things he had
ever heard of. Why? Were the gods battling on the side of a to him
unimportant social arrangement? Apparently. Anyhow, he had been
compelled to quit, and here he was, vigorous, determined, somewhat
battered by the experience, but still forceful and worth while.
And it was a part of the penalty that he had become measurably soured by
what had occurred. He was feeling that he had been compelled to do the
first ugly, brutal thing of his life. Jennie deserved better of him. It was a shame to forsake her after all the devotion she had manifested. Truly she had played a finer part than he. Worst of all, his deed could not be
excused on the grounds of necessity. He could have lived on ten thousand
a year; he could have done without the million and more which was now
his. He could have done without the society, the pleasures of which had
always been a lure. He could have, but he had not, and he had
complicated it all with the thought of another woman.
Was she as good as Jennie? That was the question which always rose
before him. Was she as kindly? Wasn't she deliberately scheming under
his very eyes to win him away from the woman who was as good as his
wife? Was that admirable? Was it the thing a truly big woman would do?
Was she good enough for him after all? Ought he to marry her? Ought he
to marry any one seeing that he really owed a spiritual if not a legal
allegiance to Jennie? Was it worth while for any woman to marry him?
These things turned in his brain. They haunted him. He could not shut out the fact that he was doing a cruel and unlovely thing.
Material error in the first place was now being complicated with spiritual error. He was attempting to right the first by committing the second.
Could it be done TO HIS OWN SATISFACTION? Would it pay mentally
and spiritually? Would it bring him peace of mind? He was thinking,
thinking, all the while he was readjusting his life to the old (or perhaps better yet, new) conditions, and he was not feeling any happier. As a
matter of fact he was feeling worse—grim, revengeful. If he married
Letty he thought at times it would be to use her fortune as a club to knock other enemies over the head, and he hated to think he was marrying her
for that. He took up his abode at the Auditorium, visited Cincinnati in a distant and aggressive spirit, sat in council with the board of directors, wishing that he was more at peace with himself, more interested in life.
But he did not change his policy in regard to Jennie.
Of course Mrs. Gerald had been vitally interested in Lester's
rehabilitation. She waited tactfully some little time before sending him
any word; finally she ventured to write to him at the Hyde Park address
(as if she did not know where he was), asking, "Where are you?" By this time Lester had become slightly accustomed to the change in his life. He
was saying to himself that he needed sympathetic companionship, the
companionship of a woman, of course. Social invitations had begun to
come to him now that he was alone and that his financial connections
were so obviously restored. He had made his appearance, accompanied
only by a Japanese valet, at several country houses, the best sign that he was once more a single man. No reference was made by any one to the
past.
On receiving Mrs. Gerald's note he decided that he ought to go and see
her. He had treated her rather shabbily. For months preceding his
separation from Jennie he had not gone near her. Even now he waited
until time brought a 'phoned invitation to dinner. This he accepted.
Mrs. Gerald was at her best as a hostess at her perfectly appointed dinnertable. Alboni, the pianist, was there on this occasion, together with Adam Rascavage, the sculptor, a visiting scientist from England, Sir Nelson
Keyes, and, curiously enough, Mr. and Mrs. Berry Dodge, whom Lester
had not met socially in several years. Mrs. Gerald and Lester exchanged
the joyful greetings of those who understand each other thoroughly and
are happy in each other's company. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself, sir,"
she said to him when he made his appearance, "to treat me so
indifferently? You are going to be punished for this."
"What's the damage?" he smiled. "I've been extremely rushed. I suppose something like ninety stripes will serve me about right."
"Ninety stripes, indeed!" she retorted. "You're letting yourself off easy.
What is it they do to evildoers in Siam?"
"Boil them in oil, I suppose."
"Well, anyhow, that's more like. I'm thinking of something terrible."
"Be sure and tell me when you decide," he laughed, and passed on to be presented to distinguished strangers by Mrs. De Lincum who aided Mrs.
Gerald in receiving. The talk was stimulating. Lester was always at his
ease intellectually, and this mental atmosphere revived him. Presently he turned to greet Berry Dodge, who was standing at his elbow.
Dodge was all cordiality. "Where are you now?" he asked. "We haven't seen you in—oh, when? Mrs. Dodge is waiting to have a word with you."
Lester noticed the change in Dodge's attitude.
"Some time, that's sure," he replied easily. "I'm living at the Auditorium."
"I was asking after you the other day. You know Jackson Du Bois? Of
course you do. We were thinking of running up into Canada for some
hunting. Why don't you join us?"
"I can't," replied Lester. "Too many things on hand just now. Later, surely."
Dodge was anxious to continue. He had seen Lester's election as a
director of the C. H. & D. Obviously he was coming back into the world.
But dinner was announced and Lester sat at Mrs. Gerald's right hand.
"Aren't you coming to pay me a dinner call some afternoon after this?"
asked Mrs. Gerald confidentially when the conversation was brisk at the
other end of the table.
"I am, indeed," he replied, "and shortly. Seriously, I've been wanting to look you up. You understand though how things are now?"
"I do. I've heard a great deal. That's why I want you to come. We need to talk together."
Ten days later he did call. He felt as if he must talk with her; he was
feeling bored and lonely; his long home life with Jennie had made hotel
life objectionable. He felt as though he must find a sympathetic,
intelligent ear, and where better than here? Letty was all ears for his