nothing to pay on them. It is live issues that draw on
my heart. You American girls ought to be at home looking
into the negro problem, or Tammany, or the Sugar Trust,
instead of nosing into Rembrandts, or miracles at
Lourdes, or palaces. These are all back numbers. Write
n. g. on them and bury them. So, by the way, is your
Mrs. Waldeaux a back number. My own opinion is that
all men and women at fifty ought to go willingly and be
shut up in the room where the world keeps its second-hand
lumber!"

"Yet nobody," said Lucy indignantly, "is more careful or
tender with Mrs. Waldeaux than you!"

"That is because Mr. Perry has the genuine American awe
of people of good birth," said Jean slyly. "It is the
only trait which makes me suspect that he is a self-made
man."
Mr. Perry, for answer, only bowed gravely. He long ago
had ceased to hide his opinion that Miss Hassard was
insufferable.

Frances, for her part, was sure that the young people
were glad to have her as a companion. One day she
decided to stay with them, and the next to go to New York
on the first steamer. She seemed to see life hazily, as
one over whose mind a cataract was growing. What had she
to do in Europe, she reasoned? George was gone. Her one
actual hold on the world had slipped from her. That
great mysterious thing called living was done and past