es of that most inartistic age. Jean
had copied her interior from pictures rather than from upholsterers'
catalogues, and her principal furniture had been made from her own
designs. Robert had placed no limit on her expenditure; he could not
afford a large house, but she was to have "everything she wanted" for
the small one which she had graciously consented to occupy. Such were
his instructions, and Jean had proceeded to carry them into effect with
a literal interpretation of the words. Being one of the happy people
who always know exactly what they want, no time was wasted in
discussion, the only difficulty being to procure fabrics as beautiful
and artistically tinted as those which were pictured in her fertile
brain. When the last treasure had been discovered, and fitted into its
niche, the completed whole was a triumph of good taste, beautiful and
restful; a home of which any man might be proud. Robert was proud of it
because it was Jean's doing, and spectators waxed enthusiastic in Jean's
praise. For himself, he would have been as well satisfied with a walnut
suite and moreen curtains, perhaps more so, for he felt uneasily that he
should never be able to smoke comfortably in such fine surroundings, nor
to cross a floor without pausing to rub his boots. Neither of the two
had a glimmering of an idea of what it cost to furnish a house; but when
the bills came in Robert had a disagreeable shock. The sum which he had
laid aside was ludicrously inadequate, and he was obliged to have
recourse to "selling a share or two," and so reduce his already slender
capital. But Jean was content. Jean was proud of her house; all other
considerations were second to that.

Vanna met her friend in the drawing-room, which, being situated at the
back of the house, with a depressing outlook, had the ordinary window
replaced by one of rich stained glass. Gas jets had been arranged
outside the window, which, being lit at dusk, served to show the glowing
colours of the design through the evening hours. On this summer
afternoon the mellowed light, and absence of prospect, combined to give
the room the aspect of a shrine, and Jean moving slowly forward was
certainly beautiful enough for a high-priestess. She wore a wonderful
flowing robe of a dull blue, softly falling silk, the long open sleeves
hanging almost to the ground, and showing her slim arms encased in some
thin metallic substance, in which gold shot into silver, and silv