ting to begin!"

And in the days that followed, she was far too engrossed in "settling"
to spare any time for brooding on phantoms. "A home of my own and a
life of my own, to be lived with my own husband!" But when at last they
were settled, and Joe in a dear, genial mood had gone about admiring,
and taking no notice apparently of the scarcity of Amy's things--he
turned to Ethel with an air which was meant to be easy and natural:

"Well, now that we're taking a fresh start, the time has come for a
little talk."

"What about?" she asked, endeavouring to make her smile as easy as his.

"It will take about one minute." His gruff voice was low and kind. "I'm
not going to force my friends on you. If you want to make friends of
your own, go ahead. And when you get them let me know--and they'll be
mine, too, if I have to break a leg in the effort. I'll dance in front
of them, so to speak, until they're all enchanted. But in the meantime,
on your side, I want you to let me down easy with these people I once
knew. I don't want to hurt them or be a cad. A few I may keep in touch
with for years."

"Fanny!" flashed into Ethel's mind.

"And all I ask of you is this. You'll soon be going away for the
summer. Let's do the decent thing--just once--and have a little party
here. I give you my word we won't do it again."

"All right, Joe--that's fair, of course--and I'll do my best to make it
exactly what you want."

And in the dinner that she gave, Ethel lived up to her bargain. The
dinner was large; there were twenty guests. The caterer was as before,
and so were the food and the flowers. And all through the evening Ethel
was gracious and affable. But behind her affability, hidden but subtly
conveyed to each guest, was a serene good-bye to them. This was their
dismissal. Did they all feel it, every one? To her at least it seemed
so. Again and again she caught the men throwing looks of regret at Joe,
and the women glancing about the rooms as though in search of what was
gone. Amy's things! Oh, more than that. The whole atmosphere was
gone. This was the home of the second wife.

"Well, dear, did I live up to our bargain?" she asked her husband when
they were alone.

"You did," said Joe. He looked at her then in such a puzzled, masculine
fashion. What she had done and how she had done it was plainly such a
mystery to him. "You did," he repeated loyally. She slipped her arms
about his neck.

"Thank you, love," she answered.