THEN came the reaction, and Madame Violette threw herself full length upon a couch and gave way to a tempest of tears. But she was a woman of resource who had been compelled for some years to fight against the world for a living, and so the fit of weeping passed soon, and she bathed her eyes, then rolled up the shade at the window and sat looking down at the street again.
“That is it—the storm!” she said.
Perhaps, she tried to tell herself, Madame Moonshine had listened at the door and now was endeavoring to awaken jealousy in the bosom of Madame Violette, so that she would show Lorenzo Brayton that she was a jealous woman. Most old bachelors, she had understood, had a horror of jealous women.
hadSo she decided that she would be very careful, and ascertain the truth or falsity of Madame
