what it meant. But the picture grew familiar and real, filled in by the
living presence here of this woman who so carefully tended her beautiful
body, her glossy hair, her cheeks and lips; this sister with so many
moods, now intent and watchful, now good-humoured, indolent, now
expectant, hungry, now smilingly content and gay.

And as the picture grew more real, warm and close and thrilling, it
symbolized for Ethel that mysterious force which she could feel on every
side, driving the throngs of humanity--in this city where so many things
she had once deemed important were fading rapidly away. That hungry
hope of a singer's career, that craving for work and self-education,
trips to Paris, London, Rome, books, art and clever people, "salons,"
brilliant discussions of life; and deeper still, those mysterious dreams
about having children and making a home--all began to drop behind, so
quietly and easily that she barely noticed the change.

For this was happening in a few weeks, in the first whirl and excitement
of those dazzling streets and shops, those models, gowns, hats, gloves
and shoes. "It's not what you say that interests men--it's how you look
and what you have on." The image of her sister grew vivid in Ethel's
eager mind. And with it came the question, now ardent though still a
little confused:

"Shall I ever be like that?"



CHAPTER IV

Ethel had been about four weeks in town, and now she was to meet Amy's