er
press-agent to do a paragraph about Popple's tea.

But in the hall, as she drew on her cloak, her thoughts reverted to the
Driscoll fancy ball. What a blow if it were given up after she had taken
so much trouble about her dress! She was to go as the Empress Josephine,
after the Prudhon portrait in the Louvre. The dress was already fitted
and partly embroidered, and she foresaw the difficulty of persuading the
dress-maker to take it back.

"Why so pale and sad, fair cousin? What's up?" Van Degen asked, as they
emerged from the lift in which they had descended alone from the studio.

"I don't know--I'm tired of posing. And it was so frightfully hot."

"Yes. Popple always keeps his place at low-neck temperature, as if the
portraits might catch cold." Van Degen glanced at his watch. "Where are
you off to?"

"West End Avenue, of course--if I can find a cab to take me there."

It was not the least of Undine's grievances that she was still living in
the house which represented Mr. Spragg's first real-estate venture in
New York. It had been understood, at the time of her marriage, that
the young couple were to be established within the sacred precincts of
fashion; but on their return from the honeymoon the still untenanted
house in West End Avenue had been placed at their disposal, and in view
of Mr. Spragg's financial embarrassment even Undine had seen the folly
of refusing it. That first winter, more-over, she had not regretted her
exile: while she awaited her boy's birth she was glad to be out of sight
of Fifth Avenue, and to take her hateful compulsory exercise where no
familiar eye could fall on her. And the next year of course her father
would give them a better house.

But the next year rents had risen in the Fifth Avenue quarter, and
meanwhile little Paul Marvell, from his beautiful pink cradle, was
already interfering with his mother's plans. Ralph, alarmed by the fresh
rush of expenses, sided with his father-in-law in urging Undine to
resign herself to West End Avenue; and thus after three years she
was still submitting to the incessant pin-pricks inflicted by the
incongruity between her social and geographical situation--the need of
having to give a west side address to her tradesmen, and the deeper
irritation of hearing her friends say: "Do let me give you a lift home,
dear--Oh, I'd forgotten! I'm afraid I haven't the time to go so far--"

It was bad enough to have no motor of her own, to be avowedly depe