"Very much so."

"Well, she said to me, 'For such women as Mrs. Chepstow I have no pity,
so don't ask it of me, Mr. Armine.' What a confession, Isaacson!"

"Did she give her reasons?"

"Oh, yes, she tried to. She said the usual thing."

"What was that?"

"She said that Mrs. Chepstow had sold herself body and soul to the Devil
for material things; that she was the typical greedy woman."

"And did she indicate exactly what she meant by the typical greedy
woman?"

"Yes. I will say for her that she was plain-spoken. She said: 'The woman
without ideals, without any feeling for home and all that home means,
the one man, children, peace found in unselfishness, rest in work for
others; the woman who betrays the reputation of her sex by being
absolutely concentrated upon herself, and whose desires only extend to
the vulgar satisfactions brought by a preposterous expenditure of money
on clothes, jewels, yachts, houses, motors, everything that rouses
wonder and admiration in utterly second-rate minds.'"

"There are such women."

"Perhaps there are. But, my dear Isaacson, one has only to look at Mrs.