to find a haven--and already cream-and-gold furniture had been
placed at artistic angles with blue velvet hangings for an abrupt
contrast. There was a multitude of books bound in dove-coloured ooze;
cut glass, crystal, silver candelabra sprinkled throughout. Men were
working on fluted white satin window drapes, and Mary glanced toward
the dining room to view the antique mahogany and sparkle of plate.
Someone was fitting more hangings in the den, and a woman was
disputing with her co-worker as to the best place for the goldfish
globe and the co-worker was telling her that Monster's house was to
occupy the room--yes, Monster, the O'Valley dog--a pound and a half,
he weighed, and was subject to pneumonia. Here they began to laugh,
and someone else, knowing of Constantine's presence, discreetly closed
the door.

Flushing, Mary returned to the drawing room and standing before
Constantine's chair she said swiftly: "I'm afraid I cannot help you,
sir. I'm not this sort. I shouldn't be able to please. Besides, it is
robbing your daughter of a great joy--and a wonderful duty, if you
don't mind my saying it--this arranging of her own home. We have no
right to do it for her."

"She's asked us to do it," spluttered the big man.

"Then you will have to ask her to excuse me."

Mary was almost stern. It seemed quite enough to have to stay at her
post all summer, run the business and houseclean the office for his
return, without being expected to come into the Gorgeous Girl's realm
and do likewise. In this new atmosphere she began to feel old and
plain, quite impossible! The yellow damask furniture, the rugs, the
silver and gold and lovely extravagances seemed laughing at her and
suggesting: "Go back to your filing cabinet and your old-maid silk
dusting cloths, to your rest-rooms for girls, and to your arguments
with city salesmen. You have no more right here than she will ever
have in your office."

When Constantine would have argued further she threw back her head
defiantly, saying: "Someone explains the difference between men and
women by the fact that men swear and women scream, which is true as
far as it goes. But in these days you often find a screaming gentleman
and a profane lady--and there's a howdy-do! You can't ask the profane
lady--no matter if she is a right-hand business man--to come fix
pretties. You better write your daughter what I've said, and if you
don't mind I'd like to get back to the office."

Constantine