Sherry's--they look substantial enough on the
surface, but when one sticks in the fork there's
nothing there but froth. He's really quite all right,
you know, so long as you don't stick in the fork."

"But I thought you liked him!" protested Laura,
pushing back her chair and rising angrily to her
feet.

"I do--I love him--but that's for myself, darling,
not for you."

"Do you mean me to think," persisted Laura in a
voice that was tense with horrified amazement,
"that you are jealous of me?"

A long pause followed her words, for Gerty, instead
of replying to the question had turned to the window
and was staring out upon the bared trees in
Gramercy Park. The quiet of it for the moment was
almost like the quiet of the country, and the two
women who loved each other seemed suddenly divided
by miles of silent misunderstanding. Then, with a
resolute movement, Gerty looked full into Laura's
face, while the light flashed upon a mist of tears that
hung over her reproachful eyes.

"Oh, Laura, Laura!" she said softly.

With a cry of remorse Laura threw herself upon her
knees beside the window, kissing the gloved hands
in Gerty's lap.

But Gerty had wiped her tears away and sat
smiling her little worldly smile of knowledge. "I am
jealous of you, but not in the way you meant," she
answered. "I am jealous for myself, for the one
little bit of me that is really alive--the part of
myself that is in you. I am afraid to go over
again with you the old road that I went over with

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