lver dishes we never use and that I don't intend to spoil my
hands shining. Poor Jack don't have much fun, anyway. If he wants that
trotter--he says it's going dirt cheap--I think it's mean he can't have
it, instead of your hanging on to a lot of out-of-style old silver; so
there."

Two generations ago there had been French blood in Camille's family. She
put on her clothes beautifully; she had a dark, rather fine-featured,
alert little face, which gave a wrong impression, for she was
essentially vulgar. Sometimes poor Margaret Lee wished that Camille had
been definitely vicious, if only she might be possessed of more of the
characteristics of breeding. Camille so irritated Margaret in those
somewhat abstruse traits called sensibilities that she felt as if she
were living with a sort of spiritual nutmeg-grater. Seldom did Camille
speak that she did not jar Margaret, although unconsciously. Camille
meant to be kind to the stout woman, whom she pitied as far as she was
capable of pitying without understanding. She realized that it must
be horrible to be no longer young, and so stout that one was fairly
monstrous, but how horrible she could not with her mentality conceive.
Jack also meant to be kind. He was not of the brutal--that is,
intentionally brutal--type, but he had a shrewd eye to the betterment of
himself, and no realization of the torture he inflicted upon those who
opposed that betterment.

For a long time matters had been worse than usual financially in the Lee
house. The sisters had been left in charge of the sadly dwindled estate,
and had depended upon the judgment, or lack of judgment, of Jack. He
approved of taking your chances and striking for larger income. The few
good old grandfather securities had been sold, and wild ones from the
very jungle of commerce had been substituted. Jack, like most of his
type, while shrewd, was as credulous as a child. He lied himself, and
expected all men to tell him the truth. Camille at his bidding mortgaged
the old place, and Margaret dared not oppose. Taxes were not paid;
interest was not paid; credit was exhausted. Then the house was put up
at public auction, and brought little more than sufficient to pay the
creditors. Jack took the balance and staked it in a few games of chance,
and of course lost. The weary trotter stumbled one day and had to be
shot. Jack became desperate. He frightened Camille. He was suddenly
morose. He bade Camille pack, and Margaret also, and t