circulating library--"David Grieve," "Cometh up as a
Flower," "The Earthly Paradise," Ruskin's "Stones of
Venice," Marie Corelli's "Romance of Two Worlds." The
mantelpiece was arranged in geometrical disorder, but it
had a gilt clock under a glass shade precisely in the
middle. When the gilt clock indicated, in a mincing way,
that Miss Kimpsey had been kept waiting fifteen minutes,
Mrs. Bell came in. She had fastened her last button and
assumed the expression appropriate to Miss Kimpsey at
the foot of the stair. She was a tall, thin woman, with
no color and rather narrow brown eyes much wrinkled round
about, and a forehead that loomed at you, and grayish
hair twisted high into a knot behind--a knot from which
a wispy end almost invariably escaped. When she smiled
her mouth curved downward, showing a number of large even
white teeth, and made deep lines which suggested various
things, according to the nature of the smile, on either
side of her face. As a rule one might take them to mean
a rather deprecating acceptance of life as it stands--they
seemed intended for that--and then Mrs. Bell would express
an enthusiasm and contradict them. As she came through
the door under the "Entry into Jerusalem," saying that
she really must apologize, she was sure it was unpardonable
keeping Miss Kimpsey waiting like this, the lines expressed
an intention of being as agreeable as possible without
committing herself to return Miss Kimpsey's visit.

"Why, no, Mrs. Bell," Miss Kimpsey said earnestly, with
a protesting buff-and-gray smile, "I didn't mind waiting
a particle--honestly I didn't. Besides, I presume it's