of that exclusive avenue. It will, we believe, be ready
for the occupancy of the family sometime in the spring."

When Bartley had finished his article, which he did
with a good deal of inward derision, he went home
to Marcia, still smiling over the thought of Lapham,
whose burly simplicity had peculiarly amused him.
"He regularly turned himself inside out to me," he said,
as he sat describing his interview to Marcia.

"Then I know you could make something nice out of it,"
said his wife; "and that will please Mr. Witherby."

"Oh yes, I've done pretty well; but I couldn't let myself
loose on him the way I wanted to. Confound the limitations
of decency, anyway! I should like to have told just
what Colonel Lapham thought of landscape advertising
in Colonel Lapham's own words. I'll tell you one thing,
Marsh: he had a girl there at one of the desks that you
wouldn't let ME have within gunshot of MY office.
Pretty? It ain't any name for it!" Marcia's eyes
began to blaze, and Bartley broke out into a laugh,
in which he arrested himself at sight of a formidable
parcel in the corner of the room.

"Hello! What's that?"

"Why, I don't know what it is," replied Marcia tremulously.
"A man brought it just before you came in, and I didn't
like to open it."