t was on the tip of her tongue to tell Mrs.
Franklyn-Haldene to mind her own business. There was something
primitive in Patty. Her second thoughts were due to cultivation, and
not from any inherent caution.

Mrs. Haldene smiled and went on. It was a wonderful smile; it never
changed; it served for all emotions, anger, hate, love, envy and
malice. Mrs. Haldene never flew into passions or ecstasies. She was
indeed preserved; and from the puckering taste she left in her wake,
it might be suspected that she was pickled.

Before Patty arrived, two things had been fully discussed: the
Bennington wedding and the report that Warrington was coming home to
live. Shrugs, knowing glances, hypocritical resignation. Too bad, too
bad! Warrington was coming home to live; young Mrs. Bennington would
live across the street. When two and two make four, what more need be
said?

But Patty had her friends, and they stood by her loyally.

New York. Clamor, clamor; noise, noise; the calling of cabmen, the
clanging of street-cars, the rumbling of the elevated, the roaring of
the drays, the rattling of the carts; shouting, pushing, hurrying,
rushing, digging, streaming, pell-mell; the smell of coal-gas, of food
cooking, of good and bad tobacco, of wet pavements, of plaster; riches
and poverty jostling; romance and reality at war; monoliths of stone
and iron; shops, shops; signs, signs; hotels; the tower of Babel; all
the nations of the world shouldering one another; Jews and Gentiles,
Christians and Turks; jumble, jumble. This is New York. There is
nothing American about it; there is nothing English, French, German,
Latin or Oriental about it. It is cosmopolitan; that is to say, it
represents everything and nothing.

Warrington, Patty and her mother alighted from the train in the
gloomy, smoky cavern called the Grand Central Station and walked
toward the gates. There was sunshine outside, but it was scarcely
noticeable through the blackened canopy overhead.

"There's John!" cried Patty, seizing her mother's arm. "And Miss
Challoner, too!"

A moment later the son was holding his mother in a fond embrace. Mrs.
Bennington gave the actress her hand, who ignored it, put her arms
around the mother and kissed her. There was not the slightest
affectation in the act; it was done naturally and sweetly. Mrs.
Bennington was well pleased. But Patty, Miss Challoner hugged Patty
and whispered: "My sister!" If Patty had any doubts, they disappeared