And there she hung on the door-sill of her new life like a child catching sight of a loaded Christmas tree and palsied with inability to decide which toy to grab first, horrified to realize that he cannot suck the orange and blow the trumpet at the same time. When they reached the New York side of the Hudson the car rolled off the boat into the ferry-house and into the street, and when Jim said again, “Well, where do you want to go?” she had to sigh. “Oh, Heavens! let's go home to my old apartment and talk it over.” She gave the address to the chauffeur, and Jim smiled grimly. It gave him a little cynical amusement to act as passenger. On the way up-town Kedzie realized that she was hungry and that here would be no food in her apartment. They turned to Sherry's. Kedzie left Jim and went into the dressing-room to smooth her hair after the motor flight. And now, just too late, Charity Coe Cheever happened to arrive as the guest of Mrs. Duane. The sight of Jim alone brought a flush of hope to Charity's eyes. She greeted him with a breeziness she had hardly known since she was a girl. There was nothing about his appearance to indicate that he had just come across from New Jersey, where he had been made the husband of Mrs. Kedzie Thropp Gilfoyle. Seeing Charity so unusually bright, Jim said, “What's happened to you, Charity, that you look so gay and free?” “That's what I am.” “What?” “Gay and free. Can you keep a secret?” “Yes.” “I'm getting divorced.” “My Lord, no!” “Yes, my lord.” “Oh, God, and me just married!” Charity looked for an instant as if an arrow had flashed into her heart and struck her dead. Then with relentless courage she plucked out the steel and let the blood gush while she smiled. “Congratulations, old boy. Who's the lucky lady?” “It's the little girl I yanked out of Mrs. Noxon's pool.” “The one I asked you to look out for?” “Yes.” “Well, isn't that fine! She was very pretty. I hope you'll be ever so happy.” “Thanks, Charity--thank you. Mighty nice of you! Of course, you know--er--Well, here she is.” He beckoned to Kedzie, who came forward. “Mrs. Cheever, my wife. But you've met, haven't you?” “Oh yes, indeed,” said Charity Coe, with an effusion of cordiality that roused Kedzie's suspicions more than her gratitude. The first woman she met was already trying to get into her good graces! Charity Coe went on, with a little difficulty: “But Mrs. Dyckman doesn't remember me. I met you at Mrs. Noxon's.” “Oh yes,” said Kedzie, and a slow, heavy crimson darkened her face like a stream of treacle. The first woman she met was reminding her of the time she was a poor young dancer with neither clothes nor money. It was outrageous to have this flung in her face at the very gate of Eden. She was extremely cold to Charity Coe, and Charity saw it. Jim Dyckman died the death at finding Kedzie so cruel to the one who had befriended her. But he could not rebuke his wife, even before his lost love. So he said nothing.