he never gives up until he gets it, and he can't get her if she's
gotten. Mother says he just comes here and takes her out and sends
her flowers and things because she asked him to be nice to her; but I
don't believe it's just for kindness. Gentler men aren't kind to
ladies if they don't like them. I believe-- Heigho, Cousin
Claudia!" She waved her hand from behind the table. "Have you had a
nice ride? Where's Uncle Winthrop?"

"Coming."

Drawing off his gloves, Laine came in the library, and as he reached
the table he took from Dorothea's hands the cup of tea just poured
and handed it to Claudia.

"Are you frozen?" His voice was slightly worried. "We shouldn't
have gone--I did not know how very cold it was."

"It wasn't a bit too cold. I love it." Claudia shook her head. "I
don't want any tea until my hands can hold the cup, though. They
_are_ cold." With her foot on the fender, she held out first one
hand and then the other to the blazing fire and laughed in Dorothea's
wide-opened eyes. "What is it, Madam Hostess? Is anything the
matter with me?"

"Your cheeks look like they're painted. They didn't when you went
out."

"Do they?" Claudia put her hands to her face. "The wind did it."
Taking off her hat, she laid it on the table, loosened the hair on
her temples, and sat down on the tapestried footstool near the