d matters to the point of butchery and have gloried like a
martyr in her domestic squabbles, but I've learned a lesson or two from
misfortune, and one of them is that a man invariably prides himself upon
possessing the quality he hasn't got. That's a perfectly safe rule," she
annotated along the margin of her story. "I used to compliment an artist
upon his art and an Apollo upon his beauty--but it never worked. They
always looked as if I had under-valued them, so now I industriously
praise the folly of the wise and the wisdom of the fool."

"And the decorative talent of Perry," laughed one of the callers.

"You needn't smile," commented Gerty, while Trent watched the little
greenish flame dance in her eyes, "it isn't funny--it's philosophy. I
made it out of life."

"But what about the terra-cotta?" enquired Susie.

"Oh, as I've said, I did nothing reckless," resumed Gerty, relaxing
among her cushions, "I neither slapped his face nor went into
hysterics--these tactics, I've found, never work unless one happens to
be a prima donna--so I complimented him upon his consideration and sat
down and waited. That night he went to a club dinner--after the
beautiful surprise he'd given me he felt that he deserved a little
freedom--and the door had no sooner closed upon him than I paid the
butler to come in and smoke the walls. He didn't want to do it at all,
so I really had to pay him very high--I gave him a suit of Perry's
evening clothes. It's the ambition of his life, you know, to look like
Perry."

"How under heaven did he manage it?" persisted Susie. "The smoke, I
mean, not the resemblance."

"There are a good many lamps about the house and we brought them all
in, every one. The butler warned me it was dangerous, but I assured him
I was desperate. That settled it--that and the evening clothes--and by
the time Perry returned the room was like an extinct volcano."

"And he never found out?" asked Susie, as the callers rose to go.

"Found out! My dear, do you really give him credit for feminine
penetration? Well, if you will go--good-bye--and--oh--don't look at my
gown to-morrow night or you'll turn blue with envy," then, as Trent
started to follow the retreating visitors, she detained him by a
gesture. "Stay awhile, unless you're bored," she urged, "but if you're
really bored I shan't say a word. I assure you I sometimes bore myself."

As he fell back into his chair Trent was conscious of a feeling of
intimacy, and str