Anna Alice Chapin

“ Morrill got up from the bench, and, with his hands in his pockets, turned his back. For a full moment no one spoke or moved.
The two women looked at each other—one of those deep and candid looks that are unusual between women except in moments when unexpected crises tear away their masks. In that moment the reputable and respected wife knew Mrs. Carpenter to be a better woman than herself. And Pippa, seeing the weakness that lay beneath that cool and self-contained exterior, felt a rush of pity that carried away upon its generous flood all thought either of resentment or of blame. ”

“ Then I am dismissed!” All at once a curiously grave, intimate look came into his eyes. “Life is a battle,” he said. “But the battle is to the strong. Good night. You are not angry with me for speaking to you?”
“No.”
He hesitated a moment, then said: “I wish you would save Morrill. I think he's worth it. His people are the right sort.”
“Save him! From what?”
He glanced across the room.
“Oh, is she that sort of woman!” exclaimed Philippa, enlightened. “No—wanderer—-I don't think it is my particular obligation to save Mr.—Morrill, isn't it?”
“Good night again,” said the world wanderer. ”

“ Gently Philippa lifted her hands and held them in her own.
“Sit down,” she said, drawing the drooping figure quietly to the rustic bench from which the woman had risen. Mrs. Rivers shuddered once, and then sat still. Her eyes, wide and hopeless, never left Pippa's. The scent of the flowers was almost overpowering; the air, heavy and damp, pressed upon the senses. In the rosy, artificial twilight of the conservatory, Pippa could just see the other woman's white face and those waiting eyes. ”

“ Her gray gown fitted perfectly; her lips, a trifle thinly cut, but warmly red, were smiling very slightly. She was a perfect specimen of her type—the sort of woman who takes for amusement the chances that a richer nature takes for great emotions. ”

“ His thick mouth tightened to a hard line, even as his eyes paid Pippa his tribute in gentle homage.
“Please don't take it nastily,” he pleaded. “It—it means an awful lot to me—the way I mean it—only—I haven't the hang of saying it right! Look here!” He paused, while he seemed to be gathering courage. “My—my wife's a no-end good sport—for a woman. I—want you to meet her.”
“Thank you,” Philippa said again. “Do you mind telling me why you are doing this?”
“I—don't know,” said Rivers, rather blankly. “I—don't know. But Oh, darn it all! A woman ought to be judged by what she is! ”

“ It is a curious, though veritable, fact—De Kock made it immortal in a paragraph—that the more profoundly a woman feels, the less effective she is, emotionally. It is your experimentalist who scores. If a woman's ardor be thoroughly awakened, she may well be sapped of outward demonstration; but if she remain calm herself, there are almost no lengths to which her exploratory instinct may not lead her.
Rivers, though he trusted his wife, had a queer qualm of discomfort as he saw the look on her face as she glanced at Ralph Morrill between her half-closed lids. ”

“ Clarisse was looking her best.
“A subtle woman!” commented the world wanderer, following Philippa's eyes. “More dangerous than if she were what the world calls bad. She has poor Morrill hard and fast!” ”

“ She turned wearily to the window, and the soft night outside. “I am tired of men!”
He laughed very gently. “Am I dismissed?”
“Why—no!” rejoined Mrs. Carpenter, with a start. “I hadn't thought of you in that way!”
The world wanderer raised his thick, black eyebrows. The echo of his laughter was still in his voice as he said: “So you don't think of me as a man! ”

“ Rivers clutched violently at her hands. “Wh—what do you mean?” she breathed.
“'In the dusk all cats are gray,'” quoted Philippa, smiling gently, if a trifle bitterly; neither man nor woman saw the smile, for her back was toward the Chinese lantern, “Mrs. Rivers, you have everything to lose—your husband's love, your friends' respect, you own future. I, on the contrary, have—nothing. Your husband is in that room waiting for you to come out. You must not come out—not for a long time. The woman who comes out must come out with Mr. Morrill. And—never forget this—it is that woman whom Mr. ”