reensward when Saturday arrives. It's a wicker chair and a
'high one,' and peaceful and improving cards for ours."

Alice Annan laughed and glanced at Querida degrees Cameron's idea was
her idea of what her brother Harry was doing for a living; but she
wasn't sure that Querida would think it either flattering or humorous.

But Jose Querida laughed, too, saying: "Quite right, Mr. Cameron. It's
only bluff with, us; we never work. Life is one continual comic opera."

"It's a cinch," murmured Cameron. "Stocks and bonds are exciting, but
_your_ business puts it all over us. Nobody would have to drive me to
business every morning if there was a pretty model in a cosey studio
awaiting me."

"Sandy, you're rather horrid," said Miss Aulne, watching him sort out
the jokers from the new packs and, with a skilful flip, send them
scaling out, across the grass, for somebody to pick up.

Cameron said: "How about this Trilby business, anyway, Miss Annan? You
have a brother in it. Is the world of art full of pretty models clad in
ballet skirts--when they wear anything? Is it all one mad, joyous
melange of high-brow conversation discreetly peppered with low-brow
revelry? Yes? No? Inform an art lover, please--as they say in the _Times
Saturday Review_."

"I don't know," said Miss Annan, laughing. "Harry never has anybody
interesting in the studio when he lets me take tea there."

Rose Aulne said: "I saw some photographs of a very beautiful girl in Sam
Ogilvy's studio--a model. What is her name, Alice?--the one Sam and
Harry are always raving over?"

"They call her Valerie, I believe."

"Yes, that's the one--Valerie West, isn't it? _Is_ it, Louis? You know
her, of course."

Neville nodded coolly.

"Introduce me," murmured Cameron, spreading a pack for cutting. "Perhaps
she'd like to see the Stock Exchange when I'm at my best."

"Is she such a beauty? Do you know her, too, Mr. Querida?" asked Rose
Aulne.

Querida laughed: "I do. Miss West is a most engaging, most amiable and
cultivated girl, and truly very beautiful."

"Oh! They _are_ sometimes educated?" asked Stephanie, surprised.

"Sometimes they are even equipped to enter almost any drawing-room in
New York. It doesn't always require the very highest equipment to do
that," he added, laughing.

"That sounds like romantic fiction," observed Alice Annan. "You are a
poet, Mr. Querida."

"Oh, it's not often a girl like Valerie West crosses our path. I admit
that. Now an