She didn’t know exactly how a dog managed to fight so many boys at once. No sooner did she consider lowering her head to offer resistance to one of her tormentors than another hit her from behind. Seemed as if. Really, within the last twenty-four hours it seemed as if everything in the way of sharp-cornered missiles had been thrown in her direction, and struck her somewhere. It was confusing. It was alarming. But she mustn’t show she was confused or alarmed. Lollie mustn’t guess. Good Lord, no!

Half an hour later Stella emerged from the bathroom, with all her war-paint on. Her cheeks were a little rosier than usual, her eyebrows a little more distinctly emphasized, and her lips a little more definitely bowed.

3

THREE DAYS LATER Stella took the early morning train to Boston, “to do a little fall shopping,” she told Laurel, but really to meet Mr. Morley Smith, the lawyer who had written to her from New York about the divorce. Mr. Smith had suggested in his letter that he would like a personal interview with Stella. Stella had replied that she would meet him at the appointed hour, at the office of the Boston law firm which he had mentioned.

You may be sure she had on all her war-paint when she sallied forth that morning, all her war-feathers too. She had selected a costume of wide black-and-white striped foulard in which to combat this particular adversary (the stripes hung sleekly around her. She resembled a zebra somewhat), and she had made herself as formidable as she knew how with all her loudest finery. A hat with sharp futurist angles, a shadow veil that hung unsecured and diaphanous to her shoulders; pearl earrings, filbert size; around her neck a long noisy chain of imitation amber beads. Her shoes were French-heeled, and steel-buckled. She carried several dangling articles on her left wrist that clattered every time she moved her hands.

When she was ushered into the private office placed at Mr. Morley Smith’s disposal, he had to make an effort not to allow himself to betray his amazement. Stephen had not prepared him for anybody of this sort. The truth is Stephen himself would have been surprised at Stella’s appearance. In the days when he had advised plain dark dresses, and no decorations, she had not used rouge, lipsticks, and eyebrow pencils. She hadn’t needed to. Stephen didn’t take into account that there had been no one to advise Stella since he had given up the enterprise, no friend or protector to care what mistakes she committed during that critical period when her volatile prettiness began to evaporate like ether into air.