Oh, I'm weary of these bickerings; so womanish! Every creature whose rival I could possibly become is my enemy. I don't blame them. What chance have they while I am present? Women who agree about nothing else make common cause against one who surpasses them. They are like prairie wolves that run in packs to pull down the buffalo, and I shall pity them as I would pity wolves. They shall find that I have a long memory. I have decided. I shall marry Strathay. February--March--April--three long, long months, and still Ned doesn't come, does not write. Yes, it's time to act; thank God, I've still some pride! While Darmstetter lived, I couldn't have left New York; but now, now that I am safe, why should I stay here, flatting with a shrew, provoking the Van Dams, to whom I owe some gratitude, wasting my life for a man who--who said he didn't love me? Milly's at home again; let Ned return to her, if he chooses. I shall marry Strathay. Meg shall be friend to a Countess. Then I shall be quits with her and with Mrs. Henry and with Peggy. And the "best people" will no more fight shy of me--though they don't now; they don't need to. Except Mrs. Schuyler, who has snubbed me just enough to leave herself right, whatever happens, few of them have ever met me. I owe no thanks to Mrs. Whitney, with her prunes and her prisms and her penny-pinchings. I must secure my future. And there's only one way--Strathay. I've been foolish to hesitate. He tried to speak yesterday, after the flower tea--for that's the extent of my social shining now; I am good to draw a crowd at a bazaar!--and I should have let him; I meant to do so. But I can't blame myself for being sentimental, weak, and for putting him off; I was tired out. What an ordeal I'd undergone! What black looks from the women! They'd rather have starved their summer church in the Adirondacks than nursed it with my help! But he must have understood; I think he saw everything that happened. The girls at my stall were sulky because no one bought of them, while I was surrounded; and one, in lifting a handful of roses, drew them towards her with a spiteful jerk that left a long thorn-scratch across my hand. I pretended not to notice. Then in a minute I cried:-- "Why, see; how could that have happened?" And I laid my perfect hand beside hers, ugly with outstanding veins, that she might note the accident--and the difference. People giggled, and she snatched her hand away, blushing furiously. I was in high spirits, with a crowd about me. I knew how tall and graceful I looked behind my flowers; and to tease Mrs. Terry, I pinned Bellmer's boutonniere with unnecessary graciousness, and smiled at her while he sniffed it with beatitude beaming from his moony face. "Awf'ly slow things, teas," he said regretfully, as she bore him off'; "awf'ly slow, don't you think?" Really the man's little better than a downright fool; if he were poor, no one would waste a better word upon him.