They repent then, _sans doute_; and get no mercy. We overlook everything at this apex of civilization but stupidity. We respect the high-handed but not the light-headed. That is one reason those long-winded novels of sin and repentance--generally over one slip and when the man has wearied--leave us cold. We know too much. It seems such a lot of fuss about so little. If some of these good, painstaking, and--let us whisper it--bourgeoise novelists had seen one-tenth of the pagan disregard for all they cherish most highly, that I have seen, and if they could only be made to comprehend--which they never could--how absolutely admirable these same women are in many other respects--such capacity for deep undying friendship, such uncalculating loyalty, such racial possibilities of heroism--well, they would do a good deal harder thinking than they have had to do yet, if they attempted to readjust their traditions to the actual facts of life. But the old traditions get back at our women all the same, although they don't suspect it. They pay the penalty in that late--sometimes not so late--intolerable maddening ennui. Heavens! how many women I have heard wish they were dead. Thank God I am a virgin! "Of course, dear Isabel, I would not write like this about Vicky to any one on earth but yourself. But she is on your hands, so to speak, and I feel you should have some sort of comprehension of her. To understand her fully is impossible. She is unhappy, that is the main thing--what with all I have intimated, and the great change in her fortunes--I can hardly imagine Vicky without Capheaton and the reflected glory of 'Elton Gwynne'; and, no doubt, she finds California an exile and has realized by this time that she can be of little use to Jack. Better make a fortune for her in your wonderful American way and bring them both home." XXXII Isabel called up Mrs. Hofer on the telephone, and after being switched off and on half a dozen times, and crossed wires and all the other mishaps peculiar to the California telephone service had reduced both to a state of furious indifference, Mrs. Hofer accepted Miss Otis's inability to go down to San Francisco until the day of the party, and her promise to pay the visit during Christmas week, with equal philosophy.