aggravating than words could have been. She had been for several days
deprived of the pleasure of teasing anybody, and her delight in vexing
Rangely made his presence a temptation which she was seldom able to
resist. She was unrestrained by any regard for the young author which
should make her especially concerned how seriously she offended him;
and when she now changed the conversation abruptly, it was with a
forbearing air which was anything but soothing to his nerves.

"Don't you think," she asked, "that Mr. Berry was absurd in the way he
acted about playing at Mrs. West's?"

"No, I can't say that I do," the caller retorted savagely. "Mrs. West
gives out that she is going to give the neglected native musicians at
last a chance to be heard, and then she invites them to play their
compositions in her parlor. Westbrooke Berry isn't the man to be
patronized in any such way. Just think of her having the cheek to give
to a man whose work has been brought out in Berlin an invitation which
is equivalent to saying that he can't get a public hearing, but she'll
help him out by asking her guests to listen to him. Heavens! Mrs. West
is a perfectly incredible woman."

Ethel smiled sweetly. In her secret heart she agreed with him; but it
did not suit her mood to show that she did so.

"You seem bound to take the opposite view of everything to-day," she
said, in tones as sweet as her smile; "or perhaps it is only that my
temper has been ruined by my cold. I told you it had been bad."

He rose abruptly.