giving herself to this world of youth and
friendship--crossing the threshold--leaving for ever behind her the past
with its loneliness and isolation.

It was of friendships she dreamed, and the blessed nearness of others,
and the liberty to seek them. She promised herself she would never,
never again permit herself to be alone. She had no definite plans,
except that. Life henceforth must be filled with the bright shapes of
comrades. Life must be only pleasure. Never again must sadness come near
her. A miraculous capacity for happiness seemed to fill her breast,
expanding with the fierce desire for it, until under the closed lids
tears stole out, and there, in the darkness, she held out her bare arms
to the world--the kind, good, generous, warm-hearted world, which was
waiting, just beyond her threshold, to welcome her and love her and
companion her for ever.

CHAPTER III

THE THRESHOLD

She awoke tired; she had scarcely closed her eyes that night. The fresh
odour of roses filled her room when her maid arrived with morning gifts
from Kathleen and Scott.

She lay abed until noon. They started dressing her about three. After
that the day became unreal to her.

* * * * *

Manhattan was conventionally affable to Geraldine Seagrave, also
somewhat curious to see what she looked like. Fifth Avenue and the
neighbouring side streets were jammed with motors and carriages on the
bright January afternoon that Geraldine made her bow, and the red and
silver drawing-rooms, so famous a generation ago, were packed
continually.

What people saw was a big, clumsy house expensively overdecorated in the
appalling taste of forty years ago, now screened by forests of palms and
vast banks of flowers; and they saw a number of people popularly
identified with the sort of society which newspapers delight to revere;
and a few people of real distinction; and a young girl, noticeably pale,
standing beside Kathleen Severn and receiving the patronage of dowagers
and beaux, and the impulsive clasp of fellowship from fresh-faced young
girls and nice-looking, well-mannered young fellows.

The general opinion seemed to be that Geraldine Seagrave possessed all
the beauty which rumour had attributed to her as her right by
inheritance, but the animation of her clever mother was lacking. Also,
some said that her manners still smacked of the nursery; and that,
unless it had been temporarily frightened out of he