And yet their tribute to her beauty had its
compensations. It was the promise of triumph when he
for whom she waited should step from the throng and
lift his hat. Just how he was going to do this without
a breach of the proprieties of life, she couldn't see.
It would come. It must come. It was Fate.

In twenty minutes her coffee-pot was boiling, the
lamb chops broiled to perfection and she was seated
before the dainty, snow-white table, the kitten softly
begging at her feet. Half an hour later, every dish
and pot and pan was back in its place in perfect order.
She prided herself on her mastery of the details of
cooking and the most economical administration of every
dollar devoted to housekeeping. She studied cooking in
the best schools the city afforded. She meant to show
her Knight a thing or two in this line when the time
came. His wife would not be an ignorant slattern, the
victim of incompetent servants. No servant could fool
her. She would know the business of the house down to
its minutest detail.

Not that she loved dish-washing and pot-polishing
and scrubbing. It was simply a part of the Game of
Life she must play in the ideal home she would build.
There was no drudgery in it for this reason. She was a
soldier on the drill grounds preparing for the battle
on the successful issue of which hung her happiness and
the happiness of the one of whom she dreamed. She
might miss some of the dangerous fun which Jane