"I think not," she admitted--"more than that I was nice to Amherst; and that, in public, he seemed to be fond of me in a well-bred way. _You_ never would have suspected, Montague?" she asked. "I never gave it a thought; because I considered you--not that sort. The last one, indeed, who would be led into any such foolishness, Stephanie." "You thought me too calm and cold, doubtless?" "Not exactly. I thought you too indifferent to men, and much too fond of Society." "And you didn't know how fascinating Garret Amherst could be--when he wished." "It's an accomplishment he doesn't waste on men," smiled Pendleton. "I wonder if he has played his fascinating way with Mrs. Amherst?" she reflected. "This evening's _Telegraph_ says that they have gone to Europe together." She laughed lightly. "You see," she said. "He is already rehabilitated. No one blames the man for long. It rather adds to his attractiveness indeed--particularly with the woman. He comes back, and all his clubs receive him; Society blinks its eyes a bit, looks shocked and welcomes him. Yet it raises its hands in horror at me! Society never seems to realize that a woman cannot commit the unpardonable sin alone--a man has got to be her accomplice." "It's rotten philosophy, Stephanie, but it's the way of the world," he said. "It's the way of the world and I was aware of it, you mean," she replied. "Certainly, I knew it before and I know it now--but I didn't think of it at the time. Look at these dear people--pretending not to notice me, yet watching covertly like a cat a mouse. And you're coming in for your share, too, Montague. They are simply perishing from curiosity--to know what we are talking about. They will hold you up to know, when I'm gone." He smiled and raised his shoulders a trifle. She knew well that none would venture to mention the matter to him. "I'm going, now," she said. "Will you escort me down this path of sweet charity flanked by gentle spirits, Mr. Pendleton?" "I would ask you to dine with me to-night but unfortunately I'm promised to the Emersons--Burgoyne and I." "They _are_ getting on!" she remarked. "Two years ago and they would not have had the nerve to ask _you_. It's the daughter, I suppose?" "You mean that she is the reason for my dining with them--or the reason for their coming on?" he asked. "The latter largely, the former possibly," she replied with an amused look. "Miss Emerson is a very pretty girl," he said. "Beauty with money is a valuable asset for marriage with some needy scion of the aristocracy," she observed. "It is not confined to the needy in her case," he replied. "I beg your pardon, Montague," she apologized. "Oh, I'm not affected!" he laughed. "Since _you_ wouldn't have me, I've retired." "You never gave me the chance to have you--you never asked me!" she laughed back. "No--you were too occupied with Lorraine to give me the opportunity to ask you." "Lorraine?" she inflected contemptuously.