the Parmalee's dance for Katrina. Unwillingly the beautiful Mrs.
Gregory yielded to the swift current, and presently they were
caught in the rush of the season, and could not have withdrawn
themselves except for serious cause.

Rachael smiled a little wryly one morning over Mrs. George
Valentine's cordially worded invitation to an informal dinner, but
she accepted it as a matter of course, and wore her most beautiful
gown. She deliberately set out to capture her hostess' friendship,
and simple, sweet Mrs. Valentine could not long resist her guest's
beauty and charm--such a young, fresh creature as she was, not a
bit one's idea of an adventuress, so genuinely interested in the
children, so obviously devoted to Warren.

Rachael, on her side, contemplated the Valentines with deep
interest. She found them a rather puzzling study, unlike any
married couple that she had ever chanced to know. Alice was one of
those good, homely, unfashionable women who seem utterly devoid of
the instinct for dressing properly. Her masses of dull brown hair
she wore strained from her high forehead and wound round her head
in a fashion hopelessly obsolete. Her evening gown, of handsome
gray silk, was ruined by those little fussy touches of lace and
ruffling that brand a garment instantly as "homemade."

George was one of the plainest of men, shy, awkward, insignificant
looking, with a long-featured, pleasant face, and red hair. Warren
had told his wife at various times that George was "a prince," and
physically, at least, Rachael found him disappointing, especially
beside her own handsome husband. She knew he was clever, with a
large practice besides his work as head surgeon at one of the big