ion had hurt her self-respect. She didn't look at him
squarely and openly, as usual, but kept her head half turned so that
the perfect line of her throat and chin was emphasized, and the tiny
curls at the back of her neck set off the creamy whiteness of her
skin. To tell the truth, Deena had never before worn a low-necked
dress. Prior to her early marriage a simple white muslin, a little
curtailed in the sleeves and transparent over the neck, had been
sufficient for any college dance she went to, and after Simeon had
assumed command, even the white muslin was superfluous, for she never
saw company either at home or abroad. Her present costume was
sufficiently discreet in sleeves--they came almost to the elbow, but
the bodice allowed so liberal a view of neck and shoulders as to cover
the wearer with confusion. She felt exactly as you feel in a dream
when you flit down the aisle of a crowded car in your night clothes,
or inadvertently remove most of your garments in a pew in church, and
with Deena self-consciousness always took the form of dignity.

Stephen pulled himself together.

"I have had a letter from Ben," he said, "who seems to think an appeal
he has made for your company in New York this winter will be more apt
to win a favorable answer if backed up by your _Temporary Adviser_.
That describes the position Simeon indicated for me; doesn't it, Mrs.
Ponsonby?"

She sank back in her chair and, forgetting herself for a moment,
allowed her eyes to meet his with a merry smile.

"This seems to be like a conspiracy to make a hungry man eat!" she
answered. "No urging is necessary to persuade me to go to New
York--why should you and Ben suppose I do not like to do pleasant
things? I shall delight in being with Polly--I shall like the
excitement and the fun--I am perfectly mad to go!"

If it had not been for the exaggeration of the last sentence French
would have been sure of the genuineness of her wishes, but the force
of the expression was so foreign to her usual moderation that he asked
himself whether Deena might not also find a separation desirable. The
thought sent the blood bounding through his veins. If she cared for
him ever so little, it would be easier to let her go--easier if he
knew she suffered too! Then he called himself a coxcomb and a
self-deceiver, and made a grasp at the good resolutions that had
almost escaped him.

"I always knew you possessed that adorable quality, common sense," he
remarked.