"Possibly not," admitted Stephanie, as she daintily flicked the ash from her tiny cigarette. "He is true to type, and it is the type to which I object. Between taking him back (assuming that he would have me back) or fighting it out alone, I much prefer to fight it out alone. It may require longer, but it hasn't the drag.... I had thought of going elsewhere, but that will only postpone the struggle a little while and will make it all the harder when it comes--for sooner or later they are sure to find me out. I even considered changing my name--that, too, has innumerable obstacles, with the necessity of living a lie and the constant fear of being detected." She flung her cigarette out of the window and flexed her silken knees under her. "So, on the whole, I thought it better to return and fight. I can down it soonest, if at all, at my home; and then it will stay down. I have a nasty thing to confront. I've been all kinds of a fool, and no one realizes it more than myself; but I'm not going to be weighted down with Harry Lorraine, nor to sacrifice myself again for him--no not even for a little while, not even for my rehabilitation. He didn't save me when he might, and I'm not going to give him another chance. I prefer to make my way alone without any aid from him." "Without any aid from him, possibly, but not _alone_," Gladys replied. "Some of your friends are standing by you, and more will follow--many more, I hope, and soon. I shall ask Margaret Middleton, Arabella Rutledge, Helen Burleston, and Sophia Westlake to lunch with us Tuesday. They will do as a starter, I think." "My dear Gladys!" Stephanie exclaimed, "I don't deserve such friendship as yours. I am----" The other interrupted her with a gesture. "You are Stephanie Mourraille to me--no matter what you did or may do. Isn't that enough? So let us forget it." "I can't forget it, dear," Stephanie answered. "Well, you can make a bluff at it!" Gladys laughed, as she arose to go. "I'll telephone you to-morrow about the luncheon, unless I see you before then. What are you doing to-morrow morning?" "I've nothing to do," said Stephanie. "I'm not pressed with engagements as yet." "I hope not--I want mine to be the first," Gladys returned easily. "I'll be at home all morning so if you can come over you'll find me in." "Do you quite appreciate what you're about to do?" Stephanie protested. Gladys stopped and looked at her thoughtfully a moment. "Stephanie," said she, "if you are going to play this hand through you must not think for your friends. Let them think for you, and act as they see fit--and don't you be bothering about what is _past_." "I'm _not_ bothering--except for my friends," was the answer. "And your friends are amply able to look out for themselves. They are not obligated to do anything for you unless they choose. You just sit tight in the saddle and give the mare her head--above all, don't fret her. You understand."