k the affair specially in charge. Of course a
decent time must elapse after poor Jack's death, but meanwhile there was
no harm in bringing the two together. The masterful wife of the
Responsible Editor conceived the scheme of having a private exhibition
and sale of Bragdon's work, and that took many interviews and much
discussion on Sunday evenings when the hostess tactfully left the two to
themselves before the fire, while she retired "to finish my letters."
When she returned, however, she found them dry-eyed and silent or
chatting about some irrelevant commonplace. The private exhibition came
off during the winter in the "Bunker's Barn," as they called the big
Riverside Drive house. A good many cards were scattered about in
literary and artistic and moneyed circles; tea was poured by the ladies
interested; Milly appeared in her widow's black, young and charming. A
number of people came and a few bought. Mrs. Billman contented herself
with the sketch of a magazine cover representing a handsome woman and a
young boy, which was said to resemble herself and her son. On the whole
the sale would have been a dreary failure if it had not been for
Bunker's liberal purchases and Reinhard's taking all that was unsold "to
dispose of privately among Jack's friends."

The hard truth was that Jack Bragdon had not shaken the New York
firmament, certainly had not knocked a gilt star from its zenith. At
thirty-two he was just a promising failure, one of the grist that the
large city eats annually. And his friends were not powerful enough to
make up for his lack of _reclame_. "He had a gift--slight though.
Nothing much done--charming fellow--died just as he was starting, poor
chap!" so the words went. If the portrait of the Russian had been there,
the tone might have been less patronizing; but Milly had already sent
this off on its long journey.

The practical result was fifteen hundred dollars, of which Bunker
contributed a thousand, and various convenient sums that dribbled in
opportunely from the novelist, "whenever he was able to make a sale." (A
good many of Jack Bragdon's things ultimately will come under the hammer
when the Reinhard house is broken up.)

And that romance which Milly's friends had staged came to nothing.
Reinhard called on her often, was very kind to her, and really
solicitous for her welfare; he also was charming to little Virginia, who
called him Uncle Clive; and he had both at his country place for long
visi