"I shouldn't have cussed. But I couldn't help it. I was bitter. If they'd only been frank and man-to-man about it. The toughest birds in the world stand in the middle of the ring and shake hands before they try to murder each other. If they'd just said, 'This is no pretty game, this is a finish fight,' I'd have loved 'em for it. I guess women can't be frank and man-to-man. "One set of rewards for me--and one for them! Abstract for me--and concrete for them! Two sets of rules! It's time some authority drafted a new set, to cover both ends of this deal. But in the meantime--'I don't want to play that way,' I said. 'I'd rather fight!'" Abruptly she stopped. "And I've been fighting ever since," she spoke in a less urgent fashion. "And I'm going to keep on fighting--right up to the end. But you--is that the kind of stuff they slipped you too, Cele?" Cecille had been listening without a sound, her eyes clinging to Felicity's face, which was twisted, somewhat awry. "Is that what they slipped you too?" Cecille licked her lips. They were dry. "I--I guess so." "And that suits you? You think that's fair and square?" "I don't know," Cecille whispered dully. "I don't know." "Then it's time you found out," Felicity flung at her fiercely. "I had to. It was put up to me just as cold. I didn't want to, any more than you do. They aren't my rules; they're theirs! But I had to decide. And it's time you figured it out." Again Cecille touched her lip with the tip of her tongue. "I've been trying to," she faltered. "But I--it don't seem to me as though I want as much as you do. I'd be content with oh-so-little. With a home, and a--and a man from whom I didn't shrink when he touched me and--and--" She could go no further. That was too vivid, too intimate. It was Felicity who displayed her feelings at the end. And already she was beginning to scorn herself for having paraded them. "Oh-so-little!" she mocked. She did not mean to be derisive. "Just that! Just a home--just a man--a real man--content!" "Would you be?" Cecille asked the question unaware of the other's irony. "Say, who do you think I am," she asked, "to try to dictate terms like that to life? _What_ do you think I am? A champion? Because that's what you're talking now. The whole purse--or nothing! I _know_ my limits. I'm going to be glad to get a fair percentage split for my share. A home! A man! Content! I get you at last, Cecille. It's you who'd better come to. For whether you know it or not, you're talking winner--take--all!" She rose then. She shrugged her arms and stretched them high above her head, and all visible emotion slipped from her like a discarded garment. "And that's _that_!" she stated easily. She went back to the mirror and adjusted her veil. Then came a brief and awkward moment. "Well, I guess I'll be going," she said. "The rent's paid a month in advance. Don't let that Shylock landlord gyp you." "I won't," said Cecille.