"Your father's money," I nodded. "Not until after her death did I
understand why she used to take all of your father's gifts in
jewelry. I know now."

"It was a good investment. I wish she'd bought twice as much. She
had so little else to leave you," Kitty was looking at me
speculatively. "How on earth are you going to live on a thousand
dollars a year? Our servants cost us twice that. Billy says it's
awful, but--"

"It is if you can't afford it. You can. I believe all people ought
to spend every dollar they can afford, and not a cent they can't.
That's what I do. Aunt Matilda thought I was impractical, but I'm
fearfully prudent. I live within my income and I've deposited with a
trust company, so I can't spend it, a sum of money quite large enough
to care for me through a spell of illness in the greediest of
hospitals, if I should be ill. And if I should die I'm prepared for
all expenses. It's a mistake to think I don't look ahead. I thought
once of having a stone put up in the cemetery so as to be sure I had
not forgotten anything, but I guess that can wait."

Kitty, still staring at me, got up. "I never expect to understand
you. Neither does father. He's mortified to death about your coming
down here to live. He knows people are talking; so do I; and we
don't know what to say."

"Oh, people always talk! And don't say anything. No one escapes
criticism. It's human pastime to indulge in it. To prefer
Scarborough Square to the Avenue may be queer, but at present I do
prefer it. That's why I'm here. You can say that if you choose."