ted to add. "But if
you'll only give me a chance I'll show you what I have made of this
man--or was making, at least, till all of a sudden right out of the
clouds there dropped a fat detective!" She laughed at the thought and
then grew rigid. How silly and pointless to laugh like that! Mrs.
Crothers was telling now of the old group down about Washington Square,
and Ethel was listening hungrily.

"What gorgeous times you must have had," she exclaimed, "in those old
days!" The next moment she turned crimson. "I've said it now. 'Old'!
I knew I should!" She caught Sally's good-natured smile and felt again
like a mere child.

From this moment on she would take care! She avoided personal topics,
and growing grave and dignified she turned the conversation from Joe to
music, concerts, the opera, "Salome," "Louise." She carefully showed she
was up to date, not only in music but in other things, books she had
discussed years ago in the club of the little history "prof," and others
she had been reading since--Montessori, "Jean Christophe." Hiding her
tense anxiety under a manner smooth as oil, she talked politely on and
on, and she felt she was doing better now. So much better! No more
stupid breaks or girlish gush, but a modern intelligent woman of parts.
And a glow of hope rose in her breast. A little more of this, she
thought, and she would be ready to break off, and with a sudden
appealing smile take her new friend into her confidence, tell of her
trouble and ask for advice.

But the smile came from her visitor. Mrs. Crothers had risen and was
holding out her hand. And as Ethel stared in dismay at that smile,
which displayed such an easy indifference to her and all her view of
life, her only woman friend in New York said:

"I'm so sorry I've got to run. I hope you'll come and see me."

From the door in the hallway Ethel came back in a sort of a daze--till
her eye lit on the blue china clock on the mantel.

"Seventeen minutes!" she exclaimed. And then after one quick look
around, she flung herself on the sofa in tears. "I bored her! How I
bored her! How stupid I was, and comic--a child! And then solemn--too
solemn--all music and art--and education and--how in the world do I know
what I said? Or care! I hate the woman! I hate them all! Seventeen
minutes! Isn't that just like New York?"

But from this little storm she soon emerged. Grimly sitting up on the
sofa, she reached out a hand icy cold, took the tea-pot and poured