"Teach them to Grace."

He groaned. "You know what I think of Grace Clendenning."

"Porter, she's beautiful. She wears little black frocks with wide
white collars and cuffs and looks perfectly adorable. To-night she's
going to wear a black tulle gown and a queer flaring black tulle
head-dress, and with her red hair--you won't be able to drag your eyes
from her."

"I've enough red hair of my own," Porter informed her, "without having
to look at Grace's."

"I'll put you opposite her at dinner. Come and see, and be conquered."

Roger Poole was also invited to the home-coming dinner. Mary had asked
nobody's advice this time. Of late Roger and Barry had been much
together, and it was their friendship which Mary had exploited, when
Constance, somewhat anxiously, had asked, on the day preceding the
dinner, if she thought it was wise to include the lonely dweller in the
Tower Rooms.

"He's really very nice, Constance. And he has been a great help to
Barry."

It was the first time that they had spoken of their brother. And now
Constance's words came with something of an effort. "What of Barry,
Mary?"

"He is more of a man, Con. He is trying hard for Leila's sake."

"Gordon thinks they really ought not to be engaged."

The sisters were in Mary's room, and Mary at her little desk was
writing out the dinner list for Susan Jenks. She looked up and laid
down her pen. "Then you've told Gordon?"

"Yes. And he says that Barry ought to go away."

"Where?"

"Far enough to give Leila a chance to get over it."

"Do you think she would ever get over it, Con?"

"Gordon thinks she would."

Mary's head went up. "I am not asking what Gordon thinks. What do you
think?"

"I think as Gordon does." Then as Mary made a little impatient
gesture, she added, "Gordon is very wise. At first it seemed to me
that he was--harsh, in his judgment of Barry. But he knows so much of
men--and he says that here, in town, among his old associations--Barry
will never be different. And it isn't fair to Leila."

Mary knew that it was not fair to Leila. She had always known it. Yet
she was stubbornly resentful of the fact that Gordon Richardson should
be, as it were, the arbiter of Barry's destiny.

"Oh, it is all such a muddle, Con," she said, and put the question
aside. "We won't talk about it just now. There is so much else to
say--and it is lovely to have you back, dearest--and you are so lovely."

Constance was cur