from him, but nothing must be said that would give
him and his mean, selfish wife a chance to break with
them and refuse to do anything whatever.

``And Mildred must get married,'' said Natalie.
In Hanging Rock most of the girls and many of the
boys had given names taken from Burke's Peerage, the
Almanac de Gotha, and fashionable novels.

Again Mildred flushed; but her eyes did not flash,
neither did she open her lips to speak. The little
remark of her sister-in-law, apparently so harmless and
sensible, was in fact a poisoned arrow. For Mildred
was twenty-three, had been ``out'' five years, and was
not even in the way to become engaged. She and everyone
had assumed from her lovely babyhood that she
would marry splendidly, would marry wealth and social
position. How could it be otherwise? Had she not
beauty? Had she not family and position? Had she
not style and cleverness? Yet--five years out and
not a ``serious'' proposal. An impudent poor fellow
with no prospects had asked her. An impudent rich
man from fashionable New York had hung after her
--and had presently abandoned whatever dark projects
he may have been concealing and had married in
his own set, ``as they always do, the miserable snobs,''
raved Mrs. Gower, who had been building high upon
those lavish outpourings of candy, flowers, and automobile
rides. Mildred, however, had accepted the defection
more philosophically. She had had enough vanity