"For Owen?" Sandy raised surprised brows. "I'm mad about him, I'd
marry him to-night!" she went on calmly.

"If you really cared, dear, you couldn't use that tone," her mother
said uncomfortably. "Love comes only once, REAL love, that is--"

"Oh, Mother! There's no such thing as real love," Sandy said
impatiently. "I know ten good, nice men I would marry, and I'll bet
you did, too, years ago, only you weren't brought up to admit it!
But I like Owen best, and it makes me sick to see a person like Rose
Satterlee annexing him. She'll make him utterly wretched; she's that
sort. Whereas I am really decent, don't you know; I'd be the sort of
wife he'd go crazier and crazier about. He's one of those
unfortunate men who really don't know what they want until they get
something they don't want. They--"

"Don't, dear. It distresses me to hear you talk this way," Mrs.
Salisbury said, with dignity. "I don't know whether modern girls
realize how dreadful they are," she went on, "but at least I needn't
have my own daughter show such a lack of--of delicacy and of
refinement." And in the dead silence that followed she cast about
for some effective way of changing the subject, and finally decided
to tell Sandy what she thought of Justine.

But here, too, Sandy was unsympathetic. Scowling as she hooked the
filmy pink and silver of her evening gown, Sandy took up Justine's
defense.

"All up to me, Mother, every bit of it! And, honestly now, you had