across the back of the empty Somers' place, and letting them bathe
on the deserted beach next to the club, wearing faded cottons, and
picknicking as near as the Half Mile Light, seemed rather shabby
performances. These things had seemed luxury a year ago, but she
wondered now how she could have done them. Sometimes she reminded
Bert of the much older times, of the oyster party and the hat-
pins, or the terrible summer at The Old Hill House, but she never
spoke of them above her breath.

On the contrary, she had to watch carefully not to inadvertently
admit to Marlborough Gardens that the financial standing of the
Bradleys was not quite all the heart might have desired. Nancy had
no particular sense of shame in the matter, she would have really
enjoyed discussing finances with these new friends. But money, as
money, was never mentioned. It flowed in a mysterious, and
apparently inexhaustible stream through the hands of these young
men and women, and while many of them knew acute anxiety
concerning it, it was not the correct thing to speak of it. They
had various reasons for doing, or not doing, various things. But
money never influenced them. Oliver Rose kept a boat, kept a car
and gave up his boat, took to golf and said he might sell his big
car--but he seemed to be wasting, rather than saving, money, by
these casual transfers. Mrs. Seward Smith said that her husband
wanted her to go into town for the winter, but that it was a bore,
and she hated big hotels. Mrs. Biggerstaff suggested lazily that
they all wait until February and then go to Bermuda, and although
they did not go, Nancy never heard anyone say that the holiday was
too expensive. Everybody always had gowns and maids and dinners
enough; there was no particular display. Old Mrs. Underhill indeed
dressed with the quaint simplicity of a Quaker, and even gay