ected her country appetite, and was a living refutation of the
idea that neatness and art may not dwell together. She moved quietly and
with a speed which had nothing of haste; her mind was busy with a
magazine cover for December, she believed she'd begin studying camels.

After dinner came Burt Winchester, a steady-voiced, olive-skinned young
man, in pleasant contrast to Anne's vivacious fairness, and together
they journeyed uptown and then west to the Kensington, for a final
decision upon the one vacant apartment. The rooms were of fair size,
they were all light, and the agent had at least half a yard of
applicants upon a printed slip in his pocket.

Burt studied the apartment not at all, but his fiancee with quiet
amusement. He was much in love with Anne, but he understood her better
than she had yet discovered.

"I don't think we'll ever find anything better," she was saying to him.
"Perhaps he'd have it redecorated for us, with a long lease--"

The agent coughed discreetly. "The leases are for one year, with
privilege of renewal," he said to Burt. "It has just been redecorated;
is there anything needed?"

"It would all be lovely, if one liked blue," murmured Anne. "Just the
thing for some girl, but not for me, all that pale blue and silver, it
doesn't look a bit like either of us, Burt. I had worked out the most
stunning scheme, cream and black, with a touch of Kelly green--"

Another cough, somewhat louder, and accompanied by an undisguised look
of sympathy for Burt. "The owner prefers to decide the decorations,
Madame," said the agent. "Tastes differ so, you understand."

"Please hold the suite for me until tomorrow night," said Burt,
decisively. "I suppose we'll take it; if not, I'll make it right with
you."

"I should say, 'tastes differ,'" laughed Anne, tucking her arm into
Burt's, as they began the long walk down-town. "Do you know, Aunt Milly
and the girls thought, of course, we'd keep house, and Dan and George
are going to pick out girls that will keep house, I saw it in their
eyes. You--you're going to be satisfied, Burt?"

"I think so," answered Burt, judiciously, and then with a change of
tone, "Nan, you precious goose, you've always told me you were not
domestic."

"And you've always said you were no more domestic than I was," finished
Anne, happily. She entirely missed the quizzical expression of the brown
eyes above her. "Nuff said.--Are we going to Branton tomorrow, Burt,
with the crowd?