THE TOUCHSTONE
had gained in warmth and meaning. It was as though a transparent cup had been filled with wine. He looked at her ironically.
"I've never prevented your seeing your friends here," he broke out. "Why do you meet Flamel in out-of-the-way places? Nothing makes a woman so cheap—"
She rose abruptly and they faced each other a few feet apart.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I saw you with him last Sunday on the Riverside Drive," he went on, the utterance of the charge reviving his anger.
"Ah," she murmured. She sank into her chair again and began to play with a paper-knife that lay on the table at her elbow.
Her silence exasperated him.
"Well?" he burst out. "Is that all you have to say?"
"Do you wish me to explain?" she asked proudly.
"Do you imply I haven't the right to?"
"I imply nothing. I will tell you whatever you
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