," she said, "don't disturb yourself. I've been standing
just outside the door for several minutes waiting for a moment to slip in
quietly."

She bowed to them all, and seated herself near the window overlooking the
boulevard.

"Just go on with the report, Mr. Carp," she said, "I assure you I am most
eager to hear it."

Wyat Carp coughed gently and picked up his manuscript.

"Thank you, Miss Randall," he began gravely, "I--I--"

"You were saying that you were moved by a feeling of delicacy," prompted
the girl.

"Thank you, Miss Randall." Mr. Carp bowed. "I--er--am experiencing a
feeling of embarrassment because this is a meeting of both sexes and the
subject is one which, only recently, has been discussed in mixed company.
When one so young as yourself is present--"

"Oh," replied the girl, a shade of amusement in her voice, "please don't
let my youth interfere with our deliberations. I assure you that, young
as I may appear to be, I am quite familiar with the matter we have under
consideration."

This remarkable declaration caused something of a real sensation. Mrs.
Sumnet-Ives mentally put the speaker down as "a pert little chit." Grove
Evans was amused, for he disliked Carp. Mrs. Randall catalogued it as
another ebullition of Mary's queerness; even her uncle, despite an
affection that accepted everything Mary did as right and proper, felt
himself a little shocked. As for Miss Laforth, she favored Miss Randall
with a long, inventorying inspection. Here, she reflected, might be a
future political rival.

Mr. Carp began to read slowly with here and there a pause to enable his
audience to catch a subtle turn of phrase or the flowing rhythm of his
periods. He read while the light grew fainter and the fire glowed more
brightly, read until Lucas Randall leaned across the table and switched
on the light in the great brass lamp.

Mary Randall, deep in her easy chair beside the window and lulled by the
soporific monotone of Mr. Carp's voice, saw the afternoon darken into
dusk and the dusk deepen into night. Before her half-closed eyes the
city, slowly but purposefully, began to throw off the habiliments of day
and don the tinsel of evening. One by one, from far down the spacious
avenue, the street lamps glowed into bulbs of color which the wet
asphalt, like a winding black mirror, caught up and flung against the
polished finishings of a swift and silent train of automobiles and the
windows of the nearby mansions.