Today's Stichomancy for Richard Branson

cornices were in the best style. Any amateur would have discerned there the sense of distinction and decorative fitness which mark the work of modern French architects.

For above a month Caroline had been at home in this apartment, furnished by an upholsterer who submitted to an artist's guidance. A short description of the principal room will suffice to give us an idea of the wonders it offered to Caroline's delighted eyes when Roger installed her there. Hangings of gray stuff trimmed with green silk adorned the walls of her bedroom; the seats, covered with light- colored woolen sateen, were of easy and comfortable shapes, and in the latest fashion; a chest of drawers of some simple wood, inlaid with

the vogue--the rage she might call it--that had caught her up. Without sympathy--or without imagination, for it came back again to that--how should she get, for big dinners, down the middle and toward the far corners at all? It wasn't the combinations, which were easily managed: the strain was over the ineffable simplicities, those that the bachelors above all, and Lord Rye perhaps most of any, threw off--just blew off like cigarette-puffs- -such sketches of. The betrothed of Mr. Mudge at all events accepted the explanation, which had the effect, as almost any turn of their talk was now apt to have, of bringing her round to the terrific question of that gentleman. She was tormented with the

kind fate it is that has allowed you to come and see me again. I hope you are not over-weary with the long journey," one felt that she was, above all, a woman, a companion, a friend--yet for all that the mistress of every situation, whether diplomatic, business, or social.

I wish her mental characteristics could be described as completely as Japanese and other photographers have given us pictures of her person. But perhaps if this were possible she would seem less interesting. And it may be that in the relation of these few incidents of her career there may have been revealed something of the patriotism, the statesmanship, the imperious

two apples and a box of crackers. Are you on?"

Gertie snickered. "It isn't done in our best sets, but I'm on. I've got a can of sardines and an orange. I'll be ready in six minutes."

She was, too. She wiped off the cold cream and salt tears with a dry towel, did her hair in a schoolgirl braid and tied it with a big bow, and dressed herself in a black skirt and a baby blue dressing sacque. The Kid Next Door was waiting outside in the hall. His gray sweater covered a multitude of sartorial deficiencies. Gertie stared at him, and he stared at Gertie in the sickly blue light of the boarding-house hall, and it took her

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