dinner, half an hour later, when Rachael came into his dressing-
room. Her hair had been dressed, and under her white silk wrapper
her gold slippers and stockings were visible, but she seemed
disinclined to finish her toilette.

"Awful bore!" she said, smiling, as she sat down to watch him.

"What--the Hoyts? Oh, I don't think so!" he answered in surprise.

"They all bore me to death," Rachael said idly. "I'd rather have a
chop here with you, and then trot off somewhere all by ourselves!
Why don't they leave us alone?"

"My dear girl, that isn't life," Warren Gregory said firmly. His
tone chilled her a little, and she looked up in quick penitence.
But before she could speak he antagonized her by adding
disapprovingly: "I must say I don't like your attitude of
criticism and ungraciousness, my dear girl! These people are all
our good friends; I personally can find no fault with them. You
may feel that you would rather spend all of your time hanging over
Jim's crib--I suppose all young mothers do, and to a certain
extent all mothers ought to--but don't, for heaven's sake, let
everything else slip out of your life!"

"I know, I know!" Rachael said breathlessly and quickly, finding
his disapproval almost unendurable. Warren did not often complain;
he had never spoken to her in this way before. Her face was
scarlet, and she knew that she wanted to cry. "I know, dear," she
added more composedly; "I am afraid I do think too much about Jim;
I am afraid"--and Rachael smiled a little pitifully--"that I would