At first I attributed her vices to her environment, but soon I
realized that this was a mistake; the women of her world do not as a
rule go to pieces. Many of them I met were free and independent
women, one or two of them intellectual and worth knowing. For the
most part such women marry well, in the worldly sense, and live as
contented lives as the average lady who secures her life-contract at
the outset. If you had met Claire at an earlier period of her
career, and if she had been concerned to impress you, you might have
thought her a charming hostess. She had come of good family, and
been educated in a convent--much better educated than many society
girls in America. She spoke English as well as she did French, and
she had read some poetry, and could use the language of idealism
whenever necessary. She had even a certain religious streak, and
could voice the most generous sentiments, and really believe that
she believed them. So it might have been some time before you
discovered the springs of her weakness.

In the beginning I blamed van Tuiver; but in the end I concluded
that for most of her troubles she had herself to thank--or perhaps
the ancestors who had begotten her. She could talk more nobly and
act more abjectly than any other woman I have ever known. She wanted
pleasant sensations, and she expected life to furnish them
continuously. Instinctively she studied the psychology of the person
she was dealing with, and chose a reason which would impress that
person.

At this time, you understand, I knew nothing about Sylvia Castleman
or her fiancé, except what the public knew. But now I got an inside
view--and what a view! I had read some reference to Douglas van