common school, its high school, its college. To him her
clever housekeeping offered simply another instance of her
cleverness in general. His discourse was in bad taste. But
its bad taste was tolerable because he was interesting--food,
like sex, being one of those universal subjects that command
and hold the attention of all mankind. He rose to no mean
height of eloquence in describing their dinner of the evening
before--the game soup that brought to him visions of a hunting
excursion he had once made into the wilds of Canada; the way
the _barbue_ was cooked and served; the incredible duck--and
the salad! Clelie interrupted to describe that salad as like
a breath of summer air from fields and limpid brooks. He
declared that the cheese--which Susan had found in a shop in
the Marche St. Honore--was more wonderful than the most
wonderful _petit Suisse_. "And the coffee!" he exclaimed.
"But you'll see in a few minutes. We have _coffee_ here."

"_Quelle histoire!_" exclaimed Brent, when Freddie had
concluded. And he looked at Susan with the ironic, quizzical
gleam in his eyes.

She colored. "I am learning to live," said she. "That's what
we're on earth for--isn't it?"

"To learn to live--and then, to live," replied he.

She laughed. "Ah, that comes a little later."

"Not much later," rejoined he, "or there's no time left for it."

It was Freddie who, after lunch, urged Susan and Clelie to
"show Brent what you can do at acting."

"Yes--by all means," said Brent with enthusiasm.

And they gave--in one end of the salon which was well suited
for it--the scene between mother and daughter over the stolen
diary, in "L'Autre Danger." Brent said little when they
finished, so little that Palmer was visibly annoyed. But
Susan, who was acquainted with his modes of expression, felt
a deep glow of satisfaction. She had no delusions about her
attempts; she understood perfectly that they were simply crude
attempts. She knew she had done well--for her--and she knew
he appreciated her improvement.

"That would have gone fine--with costumes and scenery--eh?"
demanded Freddie of Brent.

"Yes," said Brent absently. "Yes--that is--Yes."

Freddie was dissatisfied with this lack of enthusiasm. He
went on insistently:

"I think she ought to go on the stage--she and Madame Clelie, too."

"Yes," said Brent, between inquiry and reflection.

"What do _you_ think?"

"I don't think she ought," replied Brent. "I thi