l fire was glowing pink and clear in the
grate, and now and then the radiators hissed softly. Norma had one big
brilliant lamp to herself, and over the old lady's chair another
glowed. Everything was rich, soft, comfortable. Regina was hovering in
the adjoining room, folding the fat satin comforters, turning down the
transparent linen sheets with their great scroll of monogram, and behind
Regina were Joseph and Emma, and all the others, and behind them the
great city and all the world, eager to see that this old woman, who had
given the world very little real service in her life, should be shielded
and warmed and kept from the faintest dream of need.

Money was a strange thing, Norma mused. What should she do, if--as her
shamed and vague phrase had it--if "something happened" to Aunt
Marianna, and she was not even mentioned in her will? Of course it was a
hateful thing to think of, and a horrible thing, sitting here opposite
Aunt Marianna in the comfortable upstairs sitting-room, but the thought
would come. Norma wished that she knew. She would not have shortened the
old lady's life by a single second, and she would have died herself
rather than betray this thought to any one, even to Wolf--even to Rose!
But it suddenly seemed to her very unjust that she could be picked out
of Biretta's bookstore to-day, by Aunt Marianna's pleasure, and perhaps
put back there to-morrow through no fault of her own. They were all
kind, they were all generous, but this was not just. She wanted the
delicious and self-respecting feeling of being a young woman with
"independent means."

Such evenings as this one, even in the wonderful Melrose house, were
undeniably dull. She and Rose had often grumbled, years ago, because
there were so many of these quiet times, in between the Saturday and
Sunday excitements. But Norma, in those days, had never supposed that
dulness was ever compatible with wealth and ease.

"Cards?" said old Mrs. Melrose, hopefully, as the girl made a sudden
move. She loved to play patience, but only when she had an audience.
Norma, who had just decided to give her French verbs a good hour's
attention, smiled amiably, and herself brought out the green table. She
sat watching the fall of kings and aces, reminding her companion of at
least every third play. But her thoughts went back to Chris, and the
faint odour of powder and soap, and the touch of his shaved cheek.

CHAPTER XIII

Norma met Chris again no later t