When the first reports of his extra-marital carrying on with Gennifer Flowers came to light, it was dismissed for lack of an obvious victim: Gennifer seemed to know her way around, and Hillary didn't seem to mind. But when the Paula Jones case surfaced some years later, where the allegation was not merely of an adulterous affair on the part of the former governor of Arkansas but of indecent exposure -- and with an employee, at that -- this, too, went nowhere: it was long ago, after all, and you couldn't prove anything. And Hillary didn't seem to mind.

By the time the Monica Lewinsky affair blew up, the hillside had been well greased. At first, the allegations were shocking: this was not in some dimly lit hotel room in Little Rock, after all, but right there in the Oval Office! But soon the process of deconstruction began. It wasn't the sex itself that merited condemnation, so the conventional wisdom had it -- sex between a fiftyish married man and a 21-year-old, sex between the President of the United States and a White House intern, sex that was, by her account, about as passionate and as meaningful as the home shopping channel.

No, it wasn't the sex: it was that he lied about it. Not just to Hillary, not just to the public, but in court, under oath. And for a time that had everyone very excited.

But soon that, too, was no longer a problem. What business was it of anyone else whom the President had sex with, after all? And if it was a private matter, then why shouldn't he lie about it? Isn't that the appropriate answer to a question that should never have been asked?

And if it was all right for him to lie, was it that much of a stretch to ask others to lie? Or, when that was no longer possible, to refuse to answer questions altogether, under the guise of executive privilege? Or even to hire private investigators to dig up dirt on his accusers? Wasn't that more or less what had been done to him? A great many things could be retroactively justified, once that first wall had been breached. For the sex was consensual.

And Hillary didn't seem to mind.

So it was that by the time Kathleen Willey had her turn, the public's moral compass was spinning so rapidly that no one had the first clue how to proceed. This wasn't just adultery, and it wasn't just predatory, and it wasn't just in the White House, and he didn't just lie about it: it was all of those things, if it were any, and more besides.

And all the while his public approval numbers keep rocketing skyward -- not just in spite of these allegations, but perhaps even because of them. Leave aside the perennial debate over whether a politician's private morals are relevant to his public office. For much of the public, it appears, Clinton's morals are just fine. A Wall Street Journal article reports that "Americans have come to forgive Mr. Clilnton his excesses, whether they involve women or cheeseburgers." Indeed, "his excesses are at the core of what makes him appealing." While you are chewing over the equation -- women and cheeseburgers -- consider that some of Clinton's fiercest defenders are to be found, to this day, among feminists. It was Gloria Steinem, no less, writing in the New York Times, who said that even if Willey's accusations were true, the President was not guilty of sexual harassment, much less of sexual assault, since he "took 'no' for an answer." I suppose we should cheer any sign of conciliation on the feminist front. It was not so long ago that it was maintained that a man in a position of power should never, under any circumstances, try to start a relationship with a women who was his subordinate. And yes, it is true, he did take no for an answer. His attentions did not continue, nor was she punished for resisting his advances.

But still: the President of the United States did not compliment Willey on her hair. He did not ask her on a date. He didn't even make a crude remark.

He groped her, for heaven's sake. Suddenly, and without a word.

All part of his roguish charm, I suppose. And besides: Hillary doesn't seem to mind.