gal unpleasantness, Paula thought she ought to
call on her uncle, and in this Mr. Ricaby agreed with her. So one
afternoon she dressed herself smartly and rode up Broadway to West
Seventy-second Street. The reception she received was not such as to
encourage her to repeat the visit. Her uncle was out, but Mrs. Marsh
greeted her with frigid politeness and asked her to have tea. While the
two women were taking mental inventory of each other Mr. Marsh came in,
and the situation became more strained.

Jimmy had expected this visit and had prepared himself for it. He had
intended to call the girl an impostor to her face, to drive her from the
house, but now she had come, he did neither. He saw a tall, pale,
aristocratic-looking girl who vaguely, despite the difference of sex,
reminded him of his brother. Yes, now he saw her he knew it was the
truth, but no matter, he would fight just the same. She was his
brother's child, the girl who had come between him and his rightful
inheritance. She was the enemy. But he would fight her and he would win.
Cooley had promised him that. These thoughts were passing through his
mind as he sat in silence, staring gloomily at her. Then he asked
questions about her father and the way they lived in Paris. It seemed to
her that he was most interested in her answers regarding her mother, and
it suddenly occurred to her that he was cross-examining her for the
purpose of the trial. Disconcerted she relapsed into monosyllables and
the atmosphere grew more chilly. There was no hint of legal
difficulties. He merely inquired if she intended to reside permanently
in New York, and expressed the hope that she would always consider their
house her home. Paula silently bowed her thanks, and the ceremonious
call was at an end.

Of Tod Chase she had seen a good deal since the voyage home. He had
asked for permission to call and she assented gladly. The young man
belonged in a way to the enemy's camp, but she did not mind that. On the
ship they had been thrown a good deal in each other's company, and she
had taken a fancy to him. He was always in such good humor, always so
full of animal spirits that his mere presence relieved the general gloom
and cheered her up. He brought her books and magazines and chatted to
her by the hour of a world she did not know and did not care to know. He
talked freely of the coming trial; denounced the whole thing as an
outrage and hotly berated his stepfather and Bascom Cooley