sage nod of her red head, she advanced a suggestion.

"Bring her over to dinner to-morrow--no, not to-morrow, I'm booked. Say
Thursday, and I'll have a nice man to meet her. She needs someone to
play around with. There's nothing like another man to knock the first
one out of a woman's head. It's cure by homeopathy."

Penelope smiled dubiously.

"It's a bit of bad luck on the second man, isn't it--if he's nice? You
know, Nan is rather fatal to the peace of the male mind."

"Oh, the man I'm thinking of has himself well in hand. He's a
novelist--and finds safety in numbers. His mother was French."

"And Nan's great-grandmother. Kitty, is it wise?"

"Extreme measures are sometimes necessary. He and she will hit it off
together at once, I know."

As Kitty finished speaking there came a trill at the front-door bell,
followed a minute later by a masculine knock on the door.

"Come in," cried Penelope.

The door opened to admit a tall, fair man who somehow reminded one of a
big, genial Newfoundland.

"I've called for my wife," he said, shaking hands with. Penelope, and
smiling down at her with a pair of lazily humorous blue eyes. "Can I