Lydia heard in spite of herself Neaera's cooing treble and the rich vibrating notes of Chairo's voice; she heard them laugh once, and then there came what seemed to be a silence that was terrible to her. Later, the voices resumed again. She passed a half hour of anguish, striving to listen and striving not to hear, and during that half hour she thought she heard the voices in the adjoining room pass through every gamut of emotion; they were sometimes raised as though each was striving to outdo the other, then they would sink into silence again. Would it never come to an end--this interview between the man she loved and a woman she despised? At last she heard a door close; she removed her hands from her head and tried to look composed. Neaera came to her with her cheeks flushed. "Did you hear anything?" asked she. Lydia arose. "I have been here too long," said Lydia. "You have nothing else to say, I think," and she moved out of the parlor into the study and was moving out of the study into the hall when Neaera stopped her, and said: "You are not mistaking Chairo's visit, are you?" There was the prettiest little dimple in Neaera's cheek as she said this. "Nothing but politics," she added, and the dimple deepened. "Good-by," said Lydia, without holding out her hand. Neaera burst out now into a little laugh, for Lydia had passed her and was at the door. "Nothing but politics," laughed Neaera, as Lydia shut the door behind her. CHAPTER XXIII A LIBEL As Lydia hurried back to the cloister she had a humiliated sense of having been in contact with something foul. Indignant at the trap which had been laid for her, sore at the struggle neither to listen nor to doubt, one thought only occupied her: to get back to the cloister and wash her mind and body clean of the whole concern. She had not been allowed to respond to Neaera's invitation without a long discussion with Iréné and the Mother Superior. The compact upon which she had come to New York was that she was not to meet Chairo there; to insure this, it had been the unexpressed understanding that she would not leave the cloister until Chairo's case was judged--or at least not leave it without the permission of the Demetrian authorities. So when Neaera's message was received, Lydia at once showed it to Iréné. Neaera's rôle in the whole matter was such an important one, and so much depended on what it could be proved to have been, that the Mother Superior judged it worth the risk to allow Lydia to visit Neaera. When, therefore, Lydia returned to the cloister, Iréné at once questioned her as to the result of the interview. But Lydia was not prepared to lay bare even to Iréné all she had suffered at Masters's rooms. It was already pitiful enough that her love for Chairo had become a subject for public discussion, and, indeed, a matter of political concern. This last agony she would keep to herself; she felt unable to talk about it to others, so she answered Iréné imploringly: