in the right set, and I think Mabel realizes she'll never really get
anywhere till she gets rid of him."

These words, uttered in the high fluting tone that she rose to when sure
of her subject, fell on a pause which prolonged and deepened itself to
receive them, while every face at the table, Ralph Marvell's excepted,
reflected in varying degree Mr. Dagonet's pained astonishment.

"But, my dear young lady--what would your friend's situation be if, as
you put it, she 'got rid' of her husband on so trivial a pretext?"

Undine, surprised at his dullness, tried to explain. "Oh that wouldn't
be the reason GIVEN, of course. Any lawyer could fix it up for them.
Don't they generally call it desertion?"

There was another, more palpitating, silence, broken by a laugh from
Ralph.

"RALPH!" his mother breathed; then, turning to Undine, she said with
a constrained smile: "I believe in certain parts of the country
such--unfortunate arrangements--are beginning to be tolerated. But in
New York, in spite of our growing indifference, a divorced woman is
still--thank heaven!--at a decided disadvantage."

Undine's eyes opened wide. Here at last was a topic that really
interested her, and one that gave another amazing glimpse into the
camera obscura of New York society. "Do you mean to say Mabel would be
worse off, then? Couldn't she even go round as much as she does now?"

Mrs. Marvell met this gravely. "It would depend, I should say, on the