er in unstinted terms, yet
underneath it all lay an affection which would have carried either
through fire and brimstone had the other required it.

Richard Stevens still kept up his social activities, but Edith moved in
a smaller and quieter circle made up of old-time friends. She knew she
could not compete, in these days of extravagant entertainment, and
unless she could repay her social obligations in kind she preferred not
to accept. She could not have everything she wished, so she selected
what she believed contributed most to her happiness and peace of mind.
All this had been carefully considered, and having been thus settled she
philosophically accepted conditions as they were. She exacted much from
her brother by way of attention, and he responded willingly, still
finding ample leisure outside her demands to live his own life in a
manner which satisfied himself.

It was the morning after one of Richard's off nights, when Edith sat
leisurely finishing her late breakfast and reading the head-lines in the
morning paper, that her brother put in his belated appearance.

"Morning, Ricky," she greeted him cheerfully. "Up for all day?"

"I think so," was the doubtful answer. "I'm awfully tired. I'd have been
down sooner except that I couldn't decide whether to stay in bed until
lunchtime and give up my breakfast, or get up and have my breakfast and
give up my rest. Even now I believe I made a mistake, for I'm awfully
tired and I don't feel hungry."

"You might go back to bed again," Edith suggested helpfully.

"No; I'm dressed now, and that would be too much trouble.--I think I'll
make my breakfast off a jolly little bottle of Celestin."

Edith laughed. "Too much wine last night, Ricky?"

Stevens made a wry face. "I'll have to give up dancing or drinking, one
or the other," he said emphatically; "it isn't scientific. Wine should
be allowed to stand in the stomach just as it ought to stand in the
bottle. This idea of churning it up by dancing is all wrong. I'd rather
dance while I'm dancing and drink while I'm drinking; but every one else
wants to do both things at the same time. It's all wrong.--That Celestin
has a beastly bad taste this morning." He examined the bottle
critically. "I was afraid the maid had brought me Hunyadi by mistake."

"I was in at Marian's yesterday," Edith remarked. "Mr. Hamlen has
arrived, and she expects Philip and Billy Huntington at the house over
Easter."

"Has Hamlen been there y