"Why did I choose Amherst, you mean?" remarked Stephanie quietly. "I don't exactly know. Propinquity, opportunity--perversity--especially the last." "But more especially because he is a slick-tongued scoundrel with the odor of eminent respectability and a perfectly fascinating way with women," said Gladys. They were mounting a steep hill. Near the crest, she threw quickly into second; and when they were over it went back again into high. "What started us on this subject anyway?" she exclaimed. "I beg your pardon, dear--I never thought what I was saying." "Nonsense!" smiled Stephanie. "I don't mind in the least--with you. Truth is, I rather like it. Harry Lorraine is nothing to me--and never can be. I'm not sensitive because he happens to be my husband. My poor judgment in making him such is too apparent for me to deny that I was a fool--neither can I deny that I took the worst possible way out of a bad bargain by running away with Amherst. I admit I've been headstrong and willful and everything else idiotic. That possibly is my saving grace--my readiness to admit it--after it is too late. I suppose Society will consider him marvellously magnanimous in offering to take me back, and me a stupendously silly woman in declining. In fact, it won't believe that such a thing is possible. It already assumes that a reconciliation is to be effected. Mrs. Postlewaite was willing to speak to me to-day, and Mrs. Porterfield actually did bow." "You are coming along!" Gladys laughed. "The Queen P's having indicated--it is for their followers to do likewise." "What will they do, however, when they know the truth?" Stephanie inquired. "Stampede--if they haven't committed themselves too far." "They haven't--it was a tentative recognition only." "It's perfectly absurd for two old women to set themselves up as the absolute arbiters of who shall be in it, and what shall be done to stay in--and for Society as a class to follow them abjectly," Gladys declared. "They are the high priestesses of the Conventional; and it's the fear of transgressing and being cast into outer darkness that holds every one to their narrow-minded ritual. I'm ashamed for my sex--they're so like sheep. They follow blindly after the leaders who in turn follow their fetish, the Customary; and it's useless to hope for a change. We've always done it; I reckon we always will do it--and those of us who aren't tractable and won't submit are viewed with suspicion, and may be driven without the fold if we transgress too far. I'm thinking of starting a society of my own, in which the members will attend to their own business so long as they don't interfere with property rights. I'm inclined to think it would be mighty popular--especially among the younger set." "There isn't a doubt of it," Stephanie agreed, with an amused smile. "Suppose we suggest it to the rest--the Order of Do as You Please--we will call it."