dark elements in their lives, Elinor enjoyed being the person to
witness them. Thoughtfully adding a bloom to her cheeks with her
friend's exquisite powder, Miss Vanderwall reflected sagely that,
when one came to think of it, it must really be rather rotten to
be married to Clarence Breckenridge.

Rachael presently came back, with the signs of her recent emotion
entirely effaced, and her wonderful skin glowing faintly from a
bath. Superbly independent of cosmetics, independent even of her
mirror, she massed the thick short lengths of dark hair on the top
of her head, thrust a jewelled pin through the coil, and began to
hook herself into a lacy black evening gown that was loose and
comfortable. Before this was finished her stepdaughter rapped on
the door, and being invited, came in with the full self-
consciousness of seventeen.

"All hooked up straight?" asked Rachael. "That gown looks rather
well."

"Do you good women realize what time it is?" Miss Breckenridge
asked, by way of reply.

"Has she got it a shade too short?" speculated Rachael, thoughtful
eyes on the girl's dress.

"Well--I was wondering!" Carol said eagerly, flinging down her
wrap, to turn and twist before a door that was a solid panel of
mirror. "What do you think--we'll dance."

"Oh, not a bit," Rachael presently decided. "They're all up to the