w."

"I think he might have paid a visit first."

"He said something about leaving a card to-morrow. But, if you don't
care about it, I'll put him off."

"No, it's all right," said Constance.

It was an instinct with her to be hospitable, to have her house always
open to her friends. But, until now, she had dreaded asking any one to
meals, except Gerrit and Adeline, quite quietly, and, just once, Paul.

Paul happened to call that evening.

"Do you mind if I ask Paul too?" she said to her husband.

"No, of course not; Paul is delightful."

Paul accepted with pleasure. On the evening of the little dinner, he was
the first to arrive.

"Addie is dining with Gerrit and Adeline," she said. "It will be nicer
for him."

"How charming you've made your place look!" said Paul, enthusiastically.

She had a pretty little drawing-room, cosy and comfortable and gay with
many flowers in vases. And she looked most charming, young, with the
attractive pallor of her rounded face, the face of a woman in her prime,
and a smile in the dimples about her lips, because the graciousness of a
hostess was natural to her. Paul thought her the best-looking of all his
sisters, as she stood before him in her black dress: a film of black
_mousseline-de-soie_ and black lace, falling in a diaphanous cloud over
white taffeta. There reigned, in her rooms, in herself, the easy grace
of a woman of the world, a quality which Paul had not yet observed in
her, because until now he had seen her either quite intimately, in her
bedroom, or at those crowded family-evenings. It was as though she had
come into her own again.

Yes, as she now welcomed Van Vreeswijck, with a soft, playful word or
two, Paul thought her simply adorable. He suddenly understood that, ten
years ago, his sister might well have been irresistible. Even now, she
had something about her so young, charming, engaging, pretty and
distinguished that she was a revelation to him. She was an exquisite
woman.

She had not hired a man-servant: the parlour-maid would wait. She
herself drew back the hangings from the dining-room door-way and,
without taking Van Vreeswijck's arm, asked the men to come in to dinner.
A pink light of shaded candles slumbered over the table, with its bunch
of grapes and its pink roses and maiden-hair fern, in between the
crystal and the silver.

"But this is most charming!" said Paul, to himself, for he could not
tell his sister so yet, as she and Van der Welc