his head and run before a hail-storm of feminine impertinence? Would
she "vamp" him, as she did every man who came near her? Or would
this man do what no man alive had yet been able to do--reduce her to
silence?

He smiled gently; and I saw that she had vamped him this much, at
least--he was going to be polite! "Mary," he said, "I think you are
carrying everything but the nose jewels."

"Nose jewels? What a horrid idea! Where did you get that?"

"When you came in, I was quoting the prophet Isaiah. Some eighty
generations of ladies have lived on earth since his day, Mary; they
have won the ballot, but apparently they haven't discovered anything
new in the way of ornaments. Some of the prophet's words may be
strange to you, but if you study them you will see that you've got
everything he lists: 'their tinkling ornaments about their feet, and
their cauls, and their round tires like the moon, the chains, and
the bracelets, and the mufflers, the bonnets, and the ornaments of
the legs, and the headbands, and the tablets, and the earrings, the
rings, and nose jewels, the changeable suits of apparel, and the
mantles, and the wimples, and the crisping pins, the glasses, and
the fine linen, and the hoods, and the veils.'"

As Carpenter recited this list, his eyes roamed from one part to
another of the wondrous "get up" of Mary Magna. You can imagine her
facing him--that bold and vivid figure which you have seen as
"Cleopatra" and "Salome," as "Dubarry" and "Anne Boleyn," and I know
not how many other of the famous courtesans and queens of history.
In daily life her style and manner is every bit as staggering; she