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Updated: September 29, 2025
Zada had so wanted a baby as a reward of love that she was willing to snatch it out of the vast waiting-room without pausing for a license. She would find that she had bought punishment at a high price. The poor baby was in for a hard life, but it would give its parents one in exchange.
The self-duel nearly wrecked Zada, but she won it. She was not thoroughbred, but she had tried to be thoroughgoing. She was evidently not a success as a self-made lady. She kept whispering to herself: "What's the use? Oh, why did I try? Oh, oh, oh, what a fool I've been! To think! to think! to think!" Cheever was distraught.
She tore her hair and bit it, and peeled diamonds off her fingers and threw them at the mirror like pebbles, and sopped up her tears with point-lace handkerchiefs and hurled those to the floor then hurled herself after them. She was a tremendous weeper, Zada. And in Newport there was a woman who had a marriage license but no husband. She slept in a room too beautiful for Kedzie to have liked.
When Charity came back, Cheever met her and celebrated her return. She was a new sensation to him again for a week or two, but her need of seclusion and quiet drove him frantic and he grew busy once more. He recalled Miss L'Etoile from the hardships of dancing for her supper. Unlike Charity, Zada never failed to be exciting. Cheever was never sure what she would do or say or throw next.
As she rode home in a taxicab that was like a refrigerator she passed in the Fifth Avenue melee Zada L'Etoile, now Mrs. Cheever, with the tiny little Cheever like a princelet asleep at her breast, hiding with its pink head the letter "A" that had grown there. People of cautious respectability spoke to Zada now with amiable respect, and murmured: "Funny thing!
When she realized that her husband had been not only neglectful of her, but devoted to a definite other woman, she felt at first that it would be heinous to receive him back in her arms fresh from the arms of a vile creature like Zada L'Etoile.
She began to pay more heed to her dress and her hats, her hair, her complexion, her smile, her general attractiveness. Cheever noticed the strange alteration, and it bewildered him. He could not imagine why his wife was flirting with him. She made it harder for him to get away to Zada, but far more eager to. He did not like Charity at all, in that impersonation. Neither did Charity.
He sat down glum and scarlet, and Charity's heart began to throb. A second glance told her who Zada was. She had seen the woman often when Zada had danced in the theaters and the hotel ballrooms. Charity found herself thinking that she was not Cheever's wife, but only a poor relation by marriage. The worst of it was that she was not dressed for the theater.
Finally she came upon what she was looking for the most ladylike theater-gown that ever combined magnificence with dazzling respectability. She made up her face like a lady's it took some paint to do that. Meanwhile, her maid was telephoning speculators for a box. Zada arrived before Cheever and Charity did.
When they were safe in the motor outside Zada was proud. "Some get-away, that?" she laughed. "Wonderful!" said Cheever. "I didn't know you had so much social skill." "You don't know me," she said. "I'm learning! You'll be proud of me yet." "I am now," he said. "You're the most beautiful thing in the world." "Oh, that's old stuff," she said. "Any cow can be glossy.
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