youth and beauty, promising it.

"I want you so much, and Barry wants you--and Susan Jenks----"

She was laughing tremulously, and Aunt Isabelle laughed too, holding on
to herself, so that she might not show in face or gesture the wildness of
her joy.

"You won't mind, will you, Frances?" she asked.

Aunt Frances rose and shook out her amber skirts "I shall of course be
much disappointed," she pitched her voice high and spoke with chill
stateliness, "I shall be very much disappointed that neither you nor Mary
will be with us for the winter. And I shall have to cross alone. But
Grace can meet me in London. She's going there to see Constance, and I
shall stay for a while and start the young people socially. I should
think you'd want to see Constance, Mary."

Mary drew a quick breath. "I do want to see her--but I have to think
about Barry--and for this winter, at least, my place--is here."

Then from the back of the room spoke Porter Bigelow.

"What's the name of your lodger?"

"Roger Poole."

"There are Pooles in Gramercy Park," said Aunt Frances. "I wonder if
he's one of them."