ands the art of
entertaining.

Her dinner-party was rather a large one, its honor guest an English
writer whose books are unendurably dull; but any sort of lion is
helpful in reducing social obligations, and for that purpose Kitty had
captured him. She insisted on my coming, but begged me not to mention
horrid things, like poor people and politics and babies who died from
lack of intelligent care, but to talk books.

"So few of the others talk books, except novels, and he thinks most
modern novels rotten," she had told me over the telephone. "So please
come and splash out something about these foreign writers whose names I
can't remember. Bergyson is one, I believe, and Brerr another, and
France-Ana--Ana something France. He's a man. And there's another
one. Mater. . . Yes, that's it. Maeterlinck. And listen: Wear that
white crepe you wore at my wedding; it's frightfully plain, but all
your other things are black. I don't see why you still wear black.
Aunt Matilda hated it."

As I went up-stairs to take off my wraps I smiled at Kitty's
instructions. In her room she hastily kissed me.

"Do hurry and come down. I'm so afraid he'll come before the others,
and I might have to talk to him. Literary people are the limit, and
this one, they say, is the worst kind. Billy refuses to leave his room
until you go down; says he'd rather be sent to jail than left alone
with him ten minutes. He met him at the club."

Holding me off, she surveyed me critically. "You look very well.
That's a good-looking dress. It suits you. I believe you wear pearls
and these untrimmed things just to bring out your hair and eyes.
Nobody but you could do it."

Stopping her short, quick sentences, she leaned forward. "There he is,
coming up the steps with Mr. Alexander. Come on; they're inside. We
can go down now. By the way"--she pinned the orchids at her waist
with unnecessary attention--"Selwyn got back yesterday. He will be
here to-night. Dick Moran is sick, and Selwyn is taking his place. At
first he declined to come. For weeks he's been going nowhere, but he
finally promised. Are you ready?"

Without looking around she went out of the room, and without answering
her I followed. I was conscious chiefly of a desire to get away, to do
anything but meet Selwyn where each would have to play a part; but as I
entered Kitty's drawing-room and later met her guests I crowded back
all else but what was due her, spoke in t