stentatious well being, against which
the rather vivid elements that went to make up her intimate social
circle--she was a creature of intimates--stood out in alluring relief.
She had literally never wanted for anything. Her tastes, to be sure,
were modest, but the wherewithal to gratify them had always been
almost stultifyingly near at hand. The excitement and adventure of an
income to which there was attached some uncertainty had never been
hers, and she was too much her father's daughter to be interested in
the playing of any game in which she could not lose. With all she
possessed staked against her untried business acumen she was for the
first time in her life concerned with her financial situation, and
quite honestly resentful of any interruption of her experiment. Her
life was closely associated with her mother's family. Her father's
people had at no time entered into her scheme of living,--her uncle
Elijah less than any member of it, and she found his post-obit
intervention in her affairs embarrassing in a dozen different
connections.

The best friend she had in the world, before he had made the tactical
error of asking her to marry him, was Richard Thorndyke. He was still,
thanks to his immediate skill in trying to retrieve that error, a very
good friend indeed. Nancy would normally have told him everything that
happened to her in the exact order of its occurrence; but partly
because she did not wish to exaggerate her eccentricity in eyes that
looked upon her so kindly, and partly because she had the instinct to
spare him the realization that there was no way in which he might come
to her rescue in the event of disaster,--she did not inform him of her
legacy. She knew that he was shrewdly calculating to stand behind her
venture, morally and practically, and that the chief incentive of his
encouragement and helpfulness was the hidden hope that through her
experiment and its probable unfortunate termination she would learn to
depend on _him_. Nancy was so sure of herself that this attitude of
Dick's roused her tenderness instead of her ire.

The two girls who were closest to her, Caroline Eustace and Betty
Pope, had been actively enlisted in the service of Outside Inn and the
ideals that it represented. Betty, a dimpling, dynamic little being,
who took a sporting interest in any project that interested her,
irrespective of its merits, was to be associated with Nancy in the
actual management of the restaurant. C