He put the letter back in the envelope, and the envelope in his
pocket. "She knows," he repeated. What under heaven had Dorothea
been telling her? He must see Dorothea and have it stopped. Did she
think him a feeble and infirm person who leaned on a stick, or a
crabbed and cross one who had no manners? He would have to call, if
only to thank her for her note. No. He would do that in writing.
Next week, perhaps, he might drop in and see Dorothea. But Hope and
Channing should take the girl about, show her the city. Certainly
Hope could not be so idiotic as to let clothes matter. In his
sister's world clothes were the insignia of its order, and of late
Hope had shown signs that needed nipping. He must see Hope. Next
week would be time enough, but Hope and Dorothea must both be seen.




VII

AN AFTERNOON CALL

"How do you do? Oh, how do you do, too, Miss Keith?" Miss Robin
French held out a hand first to Mrs. Channing Warrick and then to her
guest and shook their hands with vigor.

"Did you ever know such weather at this season of the year? Even
heat and cold are no longer like they used to be. Everything is
intensified. Indeed I will have some tea! No lemon, and one lump.
One. That's a sick-looking fire, Hope. Good gracious! I just did
catch that vase of flowers! Such a stupid fancy, putting flowers