xtraordinarily poignant and moving. All but the
dancer were smoking, and Molly sat on the floor (in copper-coloured
chiffon, too!) her hands clasped about her knees, a cigarette in an
amber holder between her lips and enunciated clearly,

"Bully!"

In describing matters afterward Eleanor referred to Molly's reception
of her as brazen. There is no reason to believe that this word has any
relation to Molly's state of mind: she saw nothing to be brazen about.
When she said, "How lucky you dropped in today, sis!" she unaffectedly
meant it.

"Well, rather!" one of the young men replied. "Won't you have
something, Mrs. Er--Oh, yes--Farwell? Rhine wine cup, what?"

"No, I thank you," said Eleanor frigidly. "May I have a few minutes'
conversation with you, Mary?"

"Not just now, I hope," said some one, "for she's going to dance again."

"In that case I will not trouble you," said Eleanor, rather
dramatically, one fears, and backed out to avoid the smoking violinist.
It was a little trying, and Eleanor should have had tact enough to let
the matter rest, but she was rather inelastic in her methods, and she
had come to New York with a Purpose. So Molly disappeared with her
into the bedroom, and they had it out, with what result it is
unnecessary to say.

It was from that moment that a doubt as to whether Molly were an asset
or a liability slipped into the Dickett family. It is improbable that
knowledge of the fact that "the disgusting foreign dancing woman" was
born and bred in Bangor, Maine, and had never been farther than a
stage-length from a vigilant mother, would have greatly affected their
judgment. And almost certainly the fact that the baronet's brother had
asked her to marry him would only have irritated them the more--and
perhaps with reason. Had he ever wanted to marry Molly? Maybe; she
never said so.

And here one must pause, to consider the interesting subject of Molly's
Relations with Men. It proved singularly lacking in richness. To
state that she had lived four years (as she did, ultimately) on the
staff of the largest New York daily newspaper, hanging personally over
the "forms" many a time, among the printers, from 10 P.M. until 3 A.M.,
walking home with the milk-carts in the lead-blue morning; sitting in
the outer office of one of the greatest city editors for three of these
years; studying every "first night," every picturesque slum, every
visiting or indigenous notoriety at close range--t