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She
walked
into
her
boudoir
,
and
before
her
mirror
began
to
dress
for
a
dinner
to
which
she
had
been
invited
.
So
it
was
Cowperwood
's
money
that
had
been
sustaining
them
all
during
the
last
few
years
;
and
she
had
been
so
liberal
with
his
means
--
so
proud
,
vain
,
boastful
,
superior
.
And
he
had
only
fixed
her
with
those
inquiring
,
examining
eyes
.
Why
?
But
she
did
not
need
to
ask
herself
why
.
She
knew
now
.
What
a
game
he
had
been
playing
,
and
what
a
silly
she
had
been
not
to
see
it
.
Did
her
mother
in
any
way
suspect
?
She
doubted
it
.
This
queer
,
paradoxical
,
impossible
world
!
The
eyes
of
Cowperwood
burned
at
her
as
she
thought
.
For
the
first
time
in
her
life
Berenice
now
pondered
seriously
what
she
could
do
.
She
thought
of
marriage
,
but
decided
that
instead
of
sending
for
Braxmar
or
taking
up
some
sickening
chase
of
an
individual
even
less
satisfactory
it
might
be
advisable
to
announce
in
a
simple
social
way
to
her
friends
that
her
mother
had
lost
her
money
,
and
that
she
herself
was
now
compelled
to
take
up
some
form
of
employment
--
the
teaching
of
dancing
,
perhaps
,
or
the
practice
of
it
professionally
.
She
suggested
this
calmly
to
her
mother
one
day
.
Mrs.
Carter
,
who
had
been
long
a
parasite
really
,
without
any
constructive
monetary
notions
of
real
import
,
was
terrified
.
To
think
that
she
and
"
Bevy
,
"
her
wonderful
daughter
,
and
by
reaction
her
son
,
should
come
to
anything
so
humdrum
and
prosaic
as
ordinary
struggling
life
,
and
after
all
her
dreams
.
She
sighed
and
cried
in
secret
,
writing
Cowperwood
a
cautious
explanation
and
asking
him
to
see
her
privately
in
New
York
when
he
returned
.
"
Do
n't
you
think
we
had
best
go
on
a
little
while
longer
?
"
she
suggested
to
Berenice
.
"
It
just
wrings
my
heart
to
think
that
you
,
with
your
qualifications
,
should
have
to
stoop
to
giving
dancing-lessons
.
We
had
better
do
almost
anything
for
a
while
yet
.
You
can
make
a
suitable
marriage
,
and
then
everything
will
be
all
right
for
you
.
It
does
n't
matter
about
me
.
I
can
live
.
But
you
--
"
Mrs.
Carter
's
strained
eyes
indicated
the
misery
she
felt
.
Berenice
was
moved
by
this
affection
for
her
,
which
she
knew
to
be
genuine
;
but
what
a
fool
her
mother
had
been
,
what
a
weak
reed
,
indeed
,
she
was
to
lean
upon
!
Cowperwood
,
when
he
conferred
with
Mrs.
Carter
,
insisted
that
Berenice
was
quixotic
,
nervously
awry
,
to
wish
to
modify
her
state
,
to
eschew
society
and
invalidate
her
wondrous
charm
by
any
sort
of
professional
life
.
By
prearrangement
with
Mrs.
Carter
he
hurried
to
Pocono
at
a
time
when
he
knew
that
Berenice
was
there
alone
.
Ever
since
the
Beales
Chadsey
incident
she
had
been
evading
him
.
When
he
arrived
,
as
he
did
about
one
in
the
afternoon
of
a
crisp
January
day
,
there
was
snow
on
the
ground
,
and
the
surrounding
landscape
was
bathed
in
a
crystalline
light
that
gave
back
to
the
eye
endless
facets
of
luster
--
jewel
beams
that
cut
space
with
a
flash
.
The
automobile
had
been
introduced
by
now
,
and
he
rode
in
a
touring-car
of
eighty
horse-power
that
gave
back
from
its
dark-brown
,
varnished
surface
a
lacquered
light
.
In
a
great
fur
coat
and
cap
of
round
,
black
lamb
's
-
wool
he
arrived
at
the
door
.
"
Well
,
Bevy
,
"
he
exclaimed
,
pretending
not
to
know
of
Mrs.
Carter
's
absence
,
"
how
are
you
?
How
's
your
mother
?
Is
she
in
?
"
Berenice
fixed
him
with
her
cool
,
steady-gazing
eyes
,
as
frank
and
incisive
as
they
were
daring
,
and
smiled
him
an
equivocal
welcome
.
She
wore
a
blue
denim
painter
's
apron
,
and
a
palette
of
many
colors
glistened
under
her
thumb
.
She
was
painting
and
thinking
--
thinking
being
her
special
occupation
these
days
,
and
her
thoughts
had
been
of
Braxmar
,
Cowperwood
,
Kilmer
Duelma
,
a
half-dozen
others
,
as
well
as
of
the
stage
,
dancing
,
painting
.
Her
life
was
in
a
melting-pot
,
as
it
were
,
before
her
;
again
it
was
like
a
disarranged
puzzle
,
the
pieces
of
which
might
be
fitted
together
into
some
interesting
picture
if
she
could
but
endure
.
"
Do
come
in
,
"
she
said
.
"
It
's
cold
,
is
n't
it
?
Well
,
there
's
a
nice
fire
here
for
you
.
No
,
mother
is
n't
here
.
She
went
down
to
New
York
.
I
should
think
you
might
have
found
her
at
the
apartment
.
Are
you
in
New
York
for
long
?
"
She
was
gay
,
cheerful
,
genial
,
but
remote
.
Cowperwood
felt
the
protective
gap
that
lay
between
him
and
her
.
It
had
always
been
there
.
He
felt
that
,
even
though
she
might
understand
and
like
him
,
yet
there
was
something
--
convention
,
ambition
,
or
some
deficiency
on
his
part
--
that
was
keeping
her
from
him
,
keeping
her
eternally
distant
.
