e at Nevada, who, for
the time, seemed to consider gloves as the world of her interest, and
letters from rising artists as no more than messages from Mars.

For a quarter of a minute Barbara looked at Nevada with a strange
steadfastness; and then a smile so small that it widened her mouth only
the sixteenth part of an inch, and narrowed her eyes no more than a
twentieth, flashed like an inspired thought across her face.

Since the beginning no woman has been a mystery to another woman. Swift
as light travels, each penetrates the heart and mind of another, sifts
her sister's words of their cunningest disguises, reads her most hidden
desires, and plucks the sophistry from her wiliest talk like hairs from
a comb, twiddling them sardonically between her thumb and fingers before
letting them float away on the breezes of fundamental doubt. Long ago
Eve's son rang the door-bell of the family residence in Paradise Park,
bearing a strange lady on his arm, whom he introduced. Eve took her
daughter-in-law aside and lifted a classic eyebrow.

"The Land of Nod," said the bride, languidly flirting the leaf of a
palm. "I suppose you've been there, of course?"

"Not lately," said Eve, absolutely unstaggered. "Don't you think the
apple-sauce they serve over there is execrable? I rather like that
mulberry-leaf tunic effect, dear; but, of course, the real fig goods
are not to be had over there. Come over behind this lilac-bush while
the gentlemen split a celery tonic. I think the caterpillar-holes have
made your dress open a little in the back."

So, then and there--according to the records--was the alliance formed
by the only two who's-who ladies in the world. Then it was agreed that
woman should forever remain as clear as a pane of glass--though glass
was yet to be discovered--to other women, and that she should palm
herself off on man as a mystery.

Barbara seemed to hesitate.

"Really, Nevada," she said, with a little show of embarrassment, "you
shouldn't have insisted on my opening this. I--I'm sure it wasn't meant
for any one else to know."

Nevada forgot her gloves for a moment.

"Then read it aloud," she said. "Since you've already read it, what's
the difference? If Mr. Warren has written to me something that any one
else oughtn't to know, that is all the more reason why everybody should
know it."

"Well," said Barbara, "this is what it says: 'Dearest Nevada--Come to
my studio at twelve o'clock to-night. Do not fail.'"