t
the door.

"There's Undine! I wonder what could have kept her." He jumped up and
walked to the door; but it was Clare Van Degen who came in. At sight of
him she gave a little murmur of pleasure. "What luck to find you! No,
not luck--I came because I knew you'd be here. He never comes near me,
Laura: I have to hunt him down to get a glimpse of him!"

Slender and shadowy in her long furs, she bent to kiss Mrs. Fairford and
then turned back to Ralph. "Yes, I knew I'd catch you here. I knew
it was the boy's birthday, and I've brought him a present: a vulgar
expensive Van Degen offering. I've not enough imagination left to find
the right thing, the thing it takes feeling and not money to buy. When I
look for a present nowadays I never say to the shopman: 'I want this or
that'--I simply say: 'Give me something that costs so much.'"

She drew a parcel from her muff. "Where's the victim of my vulgarity?
Let me crush him under the weight of my gold."

Mrs. Fairford sighed out "Clare--Clare!" and Ralph smiled at his cousin.

"I'm sorry; but you'll have to depute me to present it. The birthday's
over; you're too late."

She looked surprised. "Why, I've just left Mamie Driscoll, and she told
me Undine was still at Popple's studio a few minutes ago: Popple's
giving a tea to show the picture."

"Popple's giving a tea?" Ralph struck an attitude of mock consternation.
"Ah, in that case--! In Popple's society who wouldn't forget the flight
of time?"

He had recovered his usual easy tone, and Laura sat that Mrs. Van
Degen's words had dispelled his preoccupation. He turned to his cousin.
"Will you trust me with your present for the boy?"

Clare gave him the parcel. "I'm sorry not to give it myself. I said what
I did because I knew what you and Laura were thinking--but it's really
a battered old Dagonet bowl that came down to me from our revered
great-grandmother."

"What--the heirloom you used to eat your porridge out of?" Ralph
detained her hand to put a kiss on it. "That's dear of you!"

She threw him one of her strange glances. "Why not say: 'That's like
you?' But you don't remember what I'm like." She turned away to glance
at the clock. "It's late, and I must be off. I'm going to a big dinner
at the Chauncey Ellings'--but you must be going there too, Ralph? You'd
better let me drive you home."

In the motor Ralph leaned back in silence, while the rug was drawn
over their knees, and Clare restlessly fingered the row of