Susy rose to her feet. A little shudder ran over her. She remembered, now, having seen Algie Bockheimer at one of his parents' first entertainments, in their newly-inaugurated marble halls in Fifth Avenue. She recalled his too faultless clothes and his small glossy furtive countenance. She looked at Ellie Vanderlyn with sudden scorn.
"I think you're abominable," she exclaimed.
The other's perfect little face collapsed. "A-bo-mi-nable? A-bo-mi-nable? Susy!"
"Yes . . . with Nelson . . . and Clarissa . . . and your past together . . . and all the money you can possibly want . . . and that man! Abominable."
Ellie stood up trembling: she was not used to scenes, and they disarranged her thoughts as much as her complexion.
"You're very cruel, Susy—so cruel and dreadful that I hardly know how to answer you," she stammered. "But you simply don't know what you're talking about. As if anybody ever had all the money they wanted!" She wiped her dark-rimmed eyes with a cautious handkerchief, glanced at herself in the mirror, and added magnanimously: "But I shall try to forget what you've said."
