"Perhaps they like to live there, and, again, perhaps they haven't
enough money to change. Besides, that has been Colonel Kent's home ever
since he was married. Allison was born there."

Isabel fidgeted in her chair. "If they're very rich, I should think
they'd have enough money to enable them to move into a better house."

"Oh," replied Madame, carefully cutting her thread on the underside, "I
wasn't thinking of money when I spoke. I don't know anything about their
private affairs. But Colonel Kent has courage, sincerity, an old-
fashioned standard of honour, many friends, and a son who is a great
artist."

The girl was silent, for intangible riches did not appeal to her
strongly.

"Allison is like him in many ways," Madame was saying. "He is like his
mother, too."

"When is he going away?"

"In September or October, I suppose--the beginning of the season."

"Is he going to play everywhere?"

"Everywhere of any importance."

"Perhaps," mused Isabel, "he will make a great deal of money himself."