flouted it, although I did not have five dollars in the world. I wish I
had become a harlot--a harlot! do you hear? Nothing--nothing in life can
be as bad as life empty, wasted, emotionless, stagnant! I have existed
forty-three years in this great, beautiful, multiform world, and I might
as well have died at birth for all that it has meant to me. Nature gave
me abundantly of her instincts. I could have been a devoted wife, a
happy mother, a gay and careless harlot! I would have chosen the first,
but failing that--rather the last a thousand times than this! For then I
should have had some years of pleasure, excitement, knowledge--"

She turned abruptly and started for the door, stopped, hesitated, then
walked slowly to the wardrobe. She unhooked a frock of nun's veiling and
tore out the back breadths. She returned to the mirror and fastened the
soft flowing stuff to her head with several of the dead woman's
ornamental pins.

For a few moments longer she gazed at herself, this time silently. Her
eyes had the blank look of introspection. Then she went from the house
and down to the lake.

The next day the city on the ranchos was able to assure itself
comfortably that Webster Lake had had its tragedy.

Of the Tragedy it knew nothing.




VI