g
"North Side" people, and much richer than the Kemps. Roy Gilbert had the
rare distinction in those days of describing himself merely as
"capitalist," thanks to his father's exertions and denials. He was lazy
and good-natured and much in love with his young wife, who was unduly
religious and hoped to "steady" Milly. Apart from this obsession she was
an affectionate and pretty woman, rather given to rich food and
sentimental novels. She had been a poor girl herself, of a good New York
family, and life had not been easy until one fine day Roy Gilbert had
sailed into Watch Hill on his yacht and fallen in love with her. Some
such destiny, she hoped, would come to Milly Ridge....

When at last, one drearily hot September day, Milly got back to the
little box of a house on West Laurence Avenue, home seemed unendurably
sordid and mean, stifling. Her father was sitting on the stoop in his
shirt-sleeves, and had eased his feet by pushing off his shoes.
Discipline had grown lax in Milly's absence. Her first sensation of
revolt came at that moment.

"Oh, father--you oughtn't to look like that!" she said, kissing him.

"What's the harm? Nobody's home 'round here. All your swell friends are
at the seashore."

"But, father!"

"Well, Milly, so you decided to come home at last?"

Grandma Ridge had crept out from the house and was smiling icily.
Secretly both the older people were pleased with Milly's social success,
but they tempered their feelings in good puritan fashion with a note of
reproof.

That evening the Snowdens came in for the game of cards. Snowden was
plainly embarrassed at meeting Milly. "Good evening, Mr. Snowden, how
are you? and Mrs. Snowden?" she asked graciously, with her new air of
aloofness, as if he were an utter stranger. "You've come to play cards.
I'm so glad--papa enjoys having you so much!"

She felt that she was handling the situation like a perfect lady, and
she no longer had any real resentment. She even consented to take a hand
in the game. They were much excited about an atrocious murder that had
happened only a few doors away. Old Leonard Sweet, who had grown rich in
the contracting business, had been found dead in his kitchen. His
son-in-law--a dissipated young man whom Milly knew slightly--was
suspected of the crime. It was thought that the two had had a quarrel
about money, and the young man had shot his father-in-law. Milly
remembered old Sweet quite vividly. He used to sit on his stoop i