Armine flushed, almost boyishly.

"I wish my doctor knew you, Mr. Armine. If you create by believing, I'm
sure he destroys by disbelieving."

As she said the last words, her eyes met Meyer Isaacson's, and he saw in
them, or thought he saw, a defiance that was threatening.

The lights winked. Mrs. Chepstow got up.

"They're going to turn us out. Let us anticipate them--by going. It's so
dreadful to be turned out. It makes me feel like Eve at the critical
moment of her career."

She led the way from the big room. As she passed among the tables, every
man, and almost every woman, turned to stare at her as children stare at
a show. She seemed quite unconscious of the attention she attracted. But
when she bade good night to the two friends in the hall, she said:

"Aren't people horrible sometimes? They seem to think one is--" She
checked herself. "I'm a fool!" she said. "Good night. Thank you both for
coming. It has done me good."

"Don't mind those brutes!" Armine almost whispered to her, as he held
her hand for a moment. "Don't think of them. Think of--the others."

She looked at him in silence, nodded, and went quietly away.

Directly she had gone Meyer Isaacson said to his friend: