's friend, and she was still excited. As she exchanged good-bys
with her sister and Ben, Polly suddenly remembered to tell her
something quite unimportant.

"Oh, Deena!" she whispered, bending over the side of the automobile,
"when I came to pay for your hat today, I found I hadn't enough money,
and I knew you wouldn't like me to explain the circumstances to Ben,
so I told them to send the bill to you and we will settle it later."

"I'll settle it!" said Deena. She was a proud woman, and hated favors
that savored of cash. "Good-night--I am afraid you will be late in
getting to Newbury Hill for your dinner."

"All aboard, French!" shouted Ben--and they were gone.

Deena stood for a moment and watched the retreating machine before she
followed the path to the front door. A great deal that was pleasant
was disappearing with its puffs--Ben's gay spirits and Polly's ready
sympathy, which, if superficial, was very soothing--and the money
power that made them what they were, which, in fact, permitted the
auto to exist for them at all. It had all come into Deena's life for a
few brief hours, and was gone, but something remained--something that
had not been there when she got up that morning: the knowledge that
she was a very beautiful woman, and more than a suspicion that a
crisis was impending in her life.

As she turned to face the house the remembrance of the unpaid hat bill
laid a cold clutch on her heart. Until the first of next month she had
exactly ten dollars at her credit, and that was Simeon's--not
hers--given to her for a specific purpose. She determined to throw
herself upon his indulgence, confess her weakness and beg him to pay
the bill for her. She had never before asked a personal favor of him,
but was she justified in doubting his kindness, because of her own
shyness and pride in concealing her needs? She almost persuaded
herself he would be gratified at her request. After all, Simeon was
not an anchorite; he had his moods like other men, and there were
times when a rough passion marked his dealings with his wife; perhaps
he had not been very felicitous in his role of lover, but the
remembrance that there was such a side to his nature gave a fillip to
her courage.

For the first time he would see her at her best; might not her
prettiness--bah! the thought disgusted her! That she, a typical,
housewifely, modest New England woman should be calculating on her
beauty to draw money from a man's pocket, even t