their parents, scoff at discipline, ignore duty and demand the sort
of luxury that brought Rome to its fall. With admiration and
amusement she watched her say good-by to one woman after another as
the various tables broke up. It really gave her quite a moment to
see the way in which Joan gave as careless and unawed a hand to Mrs.
Alan Hosack and Mrs. Cooper Jekyll as to the Countess Palotta, who
had nothing but pride to rattle in her little bag; and when finally
she too drove away, it was with the uneasy sense of dissatisfaction
that goes with the dramatic critic from a production in which he has
honestly to confess that there is something new--and arresting.

Alice Palgrave stayed behind. She felt a natural proprietary
interest in the success of the afternoon. "My dear," she said
emotionally, "you're perfectly wonderful!"

"I am? Why?"

"To any other just-married girl this would have been an ordeal, a
nerve-wrecking event. But you've been as cool as a fish--I've been
watching you. You might have been brought up in a vice-regal lodge
and hobnobbed all your life with ambassadors. How do you do it?"

Joan laughed and threw out her arms. "Oh, I don't know," she said,
with her eyes dancing and her nostrils extended. "I don't stop to
think how to do things. I just do them. These people are young and
alive, and it's good to be among them. I work off some of my own
vitality on them and get recharged at the sound of their chatter.
People, people--give me people and the clash of tongues and the
sense of movement. I don't much care who they are. I shall pick up
all the little snobbish stuff sooner or later, of course, and talk