But the sober fact was that she liked her breakfast at her own hours.
Attached to the spacious sleeping-room occupied in joint tenancy by
herself and the bridge-builder were two capacious closets. After the
funeral of Mr. Belding, she took possession of both of them, hanging
her winter wardrobe in one and her summer raiment in the other, and
she had never met a man so fascinating as to tempt her to give up to
him one of these rooms.

She was by no means a fool. Like many easy-going women, she had an
enlightened selfishness which prompted her to take excellent care of
her affairs. As long as old Mr. Farnham lived, she took his advice
implicitly in regard to her investments, and after his death she
transferred the same unquestioning confidence to his grandson and heir,
although he was much younger than herself and comparatively
inexperienced in money matters. It seemed to her only natural that some
of the Farnham wisdom should have descended with the Farnham millions.
There was a grain of good sense in this reasoning, founded as it was
upon her knowledge of Arthur's good qualities; for upon a man who is
neither a sot nor a gambler the possession of great wealth almost
always exercises a sobering and educating influence. So, whenever Mrs.
Belding was in doubt in any matter of money, she asked Arthur to dine
with her, and settle the vexing questions somewhere between the soup
and the coffee. It was a neighborly service, freely asked and willingly
rendered.

As Farnham entered the widow's cosey library, he saw a lady sitting by
the fire whom he took to be Mrs. Belding; but as she rose and made a
step toward him, he discovered that she was not in mourning. The quick
twilight was thickening into night, and the rich glow of the naming
coal in the grate, deepening the shadows in the room, while it