in, she felt any familiarity unsuitable. Isabelle, the least
affected of women, for all her spoiling and vanity, perfectly
appreciated this, and liked Harriet for it.

"You amuse me," said Isabelle, making a long arm to brush away the
ash from her cigarette, "playing your part so discreetly. Your
neat little old-maidy silks--"

"Is it old-maidy?" Harriet asked, mildly, glancing down at the
severe blue cross-barred gown she wore, and straightening a
transparent cuff.

"Not on you!" Isabella assured her. But her thoughts never left
herself long, and presently she discontentedly introduced her
favourite topic: "I could have been a business woman," she
announced, thoughtfully, "my father wouldn't hear of it, of
course. We had no money!"

"We had no money, and no father," Harriet observed. "So I had no
choice. At eighteen I had to make my own way."

"At eighteen I jumped into marriage," the older woman said, still
with a reminiscent resentment in her tone. "Mr. Carter had his
mother to support, of course. We thought we were pretty reckless
to pay sixty dollars rent. He was only twenty, he was getting what
was supposed to be an enormous salary then. Heavens--it seems
thousands of years ago!"

Harriet, who had imagination, could see it. The little brilliant
wife, insisting upon the fashionable apartment, worrying over the