a, "or reading stock reports. I scarcely see anything
at all of you."

Howard roused himself.

"Where are we now?" he asked.

"Oh," cried Honora, "we haven't passed Hydeville. Howard, who is Trixton
Brent?"

"What about him?" demanded her husband.

"Nothing--except that he is one of Lily's friends, and she said she
knew--I should like him. I wish you would be more interested in people.
Who is he?"

"One of the best-known operators in the market," Howard answered, and
his air implied that a lack of knowledge of Mr. Brent was ignorance
indeed; "a daring gambler. He cornered cotton once, and raked in over a
million. He's a sport, too."

"How old is he?"

"About forty-three."

"Is he married?" inquired Honora.

"He's divorced," said Howard. And she had to be content with so much
of the gentleman's biography, for her husband relapsed into somnolence
again. A few days later she saw a picture of Mr. Brent, in polo costume,
in one of the magazines. She thought him good-looking, and wondered what
kind of a wife he had had.

Honora, when she went to town for the day, generally could be sure of
finding some one, at least, of the Holt family at home at luncheon time.
They lived still in the same house on Madison Avenue to which Aunt
Mary and Uncle Tom had been invited to breakfast on the day of Honora's
arrival in her own country. It had a wide, brownstone front, with a
basement, and a high flight of steps leading up to the door. Within,
solemnity reigned, and this effect was largely produced by the
prodigiously high ceilings and the black walnut doors and woodwork.
On the second floor, the library where the family assembled was more
cheerful. The books themselves, although in black-walnut cases, and the
sun pouring in, assisted in making this effect.

Here, indeed, were stability and peace. Here Honora remade the
acquaintance of the young settlement worker, and of the missionary, now
on the Presbyterian Board of Missions. Here she charmed other friends
and allies of the Holt family; and once met, somewhat to her surprise,
two young married women who differed radically from the other guests
of the house. Honora admired their gowns if not their manners; for they
ignored her, and talked to Mrs. Holt about plans for raising money for
the Working Girl's Relief Society.

"You should join us, my dear," said Mrs. Holt; "I am sure you would be
interested in our work."

"I'd be so glad to, Mrs. Holt," replied Honora, "if