ortune her opinions had been delivered to empty
ears.

"So you think you would fight for something to which you felt
entitled?"

"Perhaps." The gray eyes had a warrior's strength in them. "Fight, win
it, and then spend no time in sentimental regrets. We learn one thing
that all women should learn in this great age of selection: That you
must earn the things you win, and that if you do so you will most
likely keep them."

"And if you felt that you had earned something--and another woman had
not--you would play off the conqueror and take the spoils?"

"If I felt it the right thing to do."

Feeling as confused as a bank cashier when caught studying a railroad
map Mary hastened to suggest a picture of Beatrice handsomely framed
as a surprise for Steve. She was sure he would like nothing any
better.

Beatrice felt chirked up upon hearing this. She told herself that
Trudy was an inveterate gossip and this queer young person must be
thinking aloud about revolutions in Russia or something like that;
anything else was too absurd. So she repeated her invitation to come
to see the gardens with their jewel-like pools and riotous masses of
colour, and went on her way to select a most gorgeous frame for a most
gorgeous portrait of herself.

Steve expressed his thanks for the surprise picture quite properly,
and after giving it a few days of prominence on his desk he relegated
it to a shelf beside a weather-beaten map of the Great Lakes which had
always been in the office.

And here another phase of the Gorgeous Girl's effort to do something
and exercise her faculties occurred. Though she regarded Trudy's
gossip as absurd she did not forget it. No woman would. It lay in
waiting until the right moment.

Her father's illness and Steve's worried look as he came home each
night caused Beatrice to cast about for something noble and remarkable
to do. The conclusion she reached was that it was her duty to
retrench; she was not going to have floor-scrubbing duchesses corner
all the economy feats. She would make it the mode to live simply,
even be penurious in some ways--now that she had the Villa Rosa and a
season's budget of frocks. She began looking over the monthly bills in
deadly earnest. The result was a blinding headache which prevented her
going in to see her father. She retired to her room in cream lace with
endless strings of coral, and left word for Steve to drop in on his
way to his own room.

"Deary, I've been too e