comfortable with Hawkes, so she and Mrs. Catlin kept the younger
man?"

"Considerate!" Nancy said, lifelessly.

"Isn't it a wonder she isn't spoiled?" Bert pursued.

"Really it is!"

"Benchley looks like an ass," Bert conceded. "But he's not so bad.
He's in the firm now, you know, and Dorothy was just telling me
that he's taken hold wonderfully."

"Isn't that nice?" Nancy said, mildly. She was struggling with her
hair, which entirely refused to frame her face in its usual rich
waves, and lay flat or split into unexpected partings despite her
repeated efforts. "How's that now, Bert? "she asked, turning
toward him with an arrangement half-completed.

"Well--that's all RIGHT--" he began uncertainly. Nancy, dropping
the brown strands, and tossing the whole hot mass free, felt that
she could burst into tears.




Chapter Eleven


The dinner was an ordeal; her partner was unfortunately interested