fact. She was a handsome woman, of proud and dignified presence,
high-tempered, and in many instances unreasonable, her opinions
being strengthened by the force of circumstances, and very seldom on
the side of right. On this morning in question she was inclined to
feel somewhat ruffled at Marguerite, rather than the aggressor.
Miss Verne had thrown out a hint that was more effective than a
well-timed speech of polished oratory, and well she knew it.

"Such a ridiculous thing to think of," repeated the haughty mistress
with emphasis, as she swept from room to room giving orders to each
domestic, and arranging and rearranging matters to meet her own
taste and convenience. The pretty crimson cashmere morning robe,
with relief of creamy lace, hung in graceful folds and set off Mrs.
Verne's form to advantage; and as you looked upon her then and
thought how she must have looked more than twenty years in the past,
you could not blame Mr. Verne for seeking her to grace his luxurious
and beautiful home.

Evelyn Verne has picked up a very sensational novel and is
languishing on a divan of crimson velvet and old gold plush, with a
drapery of beautiful design which she had thrown aside. One arm is
gracefully curved around her head, while the other clasps the book,
and in contrast with the rich hue of oriental costume resembles that
of polished ivory.

The passage being read is certainly pleasing--yes, rapturous--for a
current of an electrifying nature suffuses the slightly-pale cheeks
and delicate lips, and again Evelyn Verne wears a beauty that is
fatal in its effects. While the latter is engaged in this selfish
manner we hasten to a somewhat odd-looking apartment, which, from