Avenue. It was one of the old monotonous brownstone houses,
but with a "southern exposure," and the former owner had removed the
front steps and remodeled the lower floor.

The dining-room, on the left of the entrance, was a long admirably
proportioned room, and the large room above, which embraced the entire
floor, Miss Dwight had converted into a library both sumptuous and
stately. She had bought her furniture at auction that it might not
look too new, and on the longer walls were bookcases seven feet high.
She had collected a small library before the war; and for the many
other books, some of them rare and all highly valued by their present
possessor, she had haunted second-hand bookshops.

The prevailing tone of the room was brown and gold, enlivened
discreetly with red, and the chairs and lounges were deep and
comfortable. A large davenport stood before the fireplace, which had
been rebuilt for logs. There was a victrola in one corner, for Miss
Dwight was amenable if her guests were seized with the desire to jazz,
and a grand piano stood near the lower windows. The only evidence of
sheer femininity was a tea table furnished with old pieces of silver
she had picked up in France. The dining-room below was a trifle gayer
in effect; the walls and curtains were a deep yellow and there were
always flowers on the table.

New York knew so much about this new literary planet that it took for
granted there was nothing further to be discovered. There are always
San Franciscans in the great city, and when she became famous they were
obliging with their biographical data. Life had been hard on her at
first, for although she came of old Revolutionary stock she grew up in
poverty and obscurity. Her father had been a failure, and after the
death of her parents she had kept a lodging house for business women,
taking courses at the University of California meanwhile; later she had
studied nursing and made her mark with physicians and surgeons. Her
brother, a good-looking chap with fine manners, but a sort of
super-moron, had unexpectedly married into the old aristocracy of San
Francisco, and Gora, through her sister-in-law, the lovely Alexina
Groome,[1] had seen something of the lighter side of life. During this
period she had written a number of short stories that had been
published in the best magazines, and one novel of distinction that had
made a "howling success" in San Francisco, owing to the unprecedented
effort