decided to make herself useful, but she had managed to make
herself beautiful and fascinating as well. She was in mourning now
for the good-hearted old benefactress who had left her a nest-egg
of some fifteen thousand dollars, and Rachael noticed with
approval that it was correct mourning: simple, severe, Parisian.
Nothing could have been more becoming to the exquisite bloom of
the young face than the soft, clear folds of filmy veiling; under
the small, close-set hat there showed a ripple of rich golden
hair. The watching woman thought that she had never seen such
self-possession; at twenty-two it was almost uncanny. The
modulated, bored young voice, the lazily lifted, indifferent young
eyes, the general air of requesting an appreciative world to be
amusing and interesting, or to expect nothing of Miss Magsie Clay,
these things caused Rachael a deep, hidden chuckle of amusement.
Little Magsie had turned out to be something of a personality!
Why, she was even employing a distinct and youthfully insolent air
of keeping Warren by her side merely on sufferance--Warren, the
cleverest and finest man in the room, who was more than twice her
age!

"To think that she is younger than Charlotte!" Rachael ejaculated
to herself, catching a glimpse of Charlotte, towed by her mother,
uncomfortable, ignored, blinking through her glasses. And when she
and Warren were in the car homeward bound, she spoke admiringly of
Magsie. "Did you ever see any one so improved, Warren? Really,
she's quite extraordinary!"

Warren smiled absently.

"She's a terribly spoiled little thing," he remarked. "She's out