consideration she gives to their ordering. In art and letters she is
not learned, but she is an expert in the management of household
affairs, and her dinner invitations are rarely declined.

At the table, with its lilacs and valley-lilies, its soft lights and
perfect appointments, were old friends of mine and new acquaintances of
hers, and with the guest of honor I shared their curiosity. Very
skilfully Kitty led the chatter into channels where the draught was
light, and obediently I did my best to follow. There was much talk,
but no conversation.

"Oh, Miss Heath!" A young girl opposite me leaned forward. "I've been
so crazy to meet you. Some one told me that you'd gone in for slums.
It must be so entrancing!"

I looked up. For a second Selwyn's eyes held mine and we both smiled,
but before I could speak Kitty's lion turned toward me.

"Yes--I heard that, too." Fixing his black-rimmed glasses more firmly
on his big and bulging nose, Mr. Garrott looked at me closely. "In my
country slumming has become a fad with a--a certain type of restless
women who have to make their living, I suppose. But I wouldn't fancy
you were--"

"She isn't."

Jack Peebles, now happily married, blinked in my direction, signaled me
to say nothing, then turned to the Englishman. "Miss Heath can do as
she chooses, being Miss Heath, but the Turks are right. Women ought to
be kept behind latticed windows, given a lute, and supplied with veils,