But Trudy was not to be swerved from the other topic. "Beatrice makes fun of him and she flirts shamefully. She has half a dozen flames all the time. One was a common cabaret singer; she had him for tea when Steve wasn't there. Now she is tired of him. You see, she had to have someone to take Gay's place! I don't think Steve flirts with any one; he isn't that sort. He's so intense he will break his heart in the old-fashioned way and then go and be a socialist or something dreadful. They scarcely see each other, and of course Beatrice's father thinks everything is lovely and they are both perfection. He just can't see the truth. Steve is a cave man and Beatrice is a butterfly--I'm a fraud--and you're just an old dear! "Yes, I am a fraud," she said, with sudden honesty. "I wouldn't come to see you unless I wanted something. I want to talk to you with all barriers down. I wish you had ever done some terrible thing or were unhappy. I don't know why, Mary dear; it's not as horrid as it sounds. I think it's because I want to know the real soul of you, and if you showed me how you met troubles and trials, you being so good, I'd be the better woman for it in meeting my problems." It was truly a tired, oldish Trudy speaking. In the last sentence Trudy had touched the greatest depths of which she was capable--causing Mary to hint of her one deep secret. "You're growing up, that's all. And I'm not good--not a bit good. Why, Trudy, do you know I have had to fight hard--terribly hard about something? I've never told any one before. I can't really tell what it is!" "Over what? You saint in white blouses and crisp ties, always smiling and working and helping people! How have you battled? Tell me, tell me!" Mary came over to the sofa and sat beside Trudy, holding the white, cold hands laden with foolish rings. "I loved and do love someone very much who never did and never will love me. I must be near that person daily, be useful to him, earn my own living by so doing--and I've made myself be content of heart in spite of it and not live on starved hopes and jealous dreams.... You see, I'm quite human." Trudy drew her hands away. She had caused Mary to confirm her suspicions, and she was sorry she had done so. The better part of her knew that she had been admitted into the very sanctuary of the girl's soul, and that the worst part of her, which usually dominated, was not worthy to be trusted with such a secret. She wished Mary had not said the words--since it changed everything and made a singularly pleasing weapon to use against Beatrice O'Valley should occasion rise. Mary was good--and it was safer to slander a good person than a bad one because there was less chance of a come-back. As she tried to make herself forget what she had just heard she knew that in the heat of anger or to gain some material goal she would use this effectual weapon without thinking and without remorse.