f the great Boucher series looked as livid as withered
roses. "I suppose they ought to be taken down and aired," he said.

She thought: "In THIS air--much good it would do them!" But she had
already repented her outbreak about Hubert, and she followed her husband
into the library with the resolve not to let him see her annoyance.
Compared with the long grey gallery the library, with its brown walls
of books, looked warm and home-like, and Raymond seemed to feel the
influence of the softer atmosphere. He turned to his wife and put his
arm about her.

"I know it's been a trial to you, dearest; but this is the last time I
shall have to pull the poor boy out."

In spite of herself she laughed incredulously: Hubert's "last times"
were a household word.

But when tea had been brought, and they were alone over the fire,
Raymond unfolded the amazing sequel. Hubert had found an heiress, Hubert
was to be married, and henceforth the business of paying his debts
(which might be counted on to recur as inevitably as the changes of the
seasons) would devolve on his American bride--the charming Miss Looty
Arlington, whom Raymond had remained over in Paris to meet.

"An American? He's marrying an American?" Undine wavered between wrath
and satisfaction. She felt a flash of resentment at any other intruder's
venturing upon her territory--("Looty Arlington? Who is she? What a
name!")--but it was quickly superseded by the relief of knowing that
henceforth, as Raymond said, Hubert's debts would be some one else's
business. Then a third consideration prevailed. "But if he's engaged to
a rich girl, why on earth do WE have to pull him out?"

Her husband explained that no other course was possible. Though General
Arlington was immensely wealthy, ("her father's a general--a General
Manager, whatever that may be,") he had exacted what he called "a clean
slate" from his future son-in-law, and Hubert's creditors (the boy was
such a donkey!) had in their possession certain papers that made it
possible for them to press for immediate payment.

"Your compatriots' views on such matters are so rigid--and it's all to
their credit--that the marriage would have fallen through at once if the
least hint of Hubert's mess had got out--and then we should have had him
on our hands for life."

Yes--from that point of view it was doubtless best to pay up; but Undine
obscurely wished that their doing so had not incidentally helped an
unknown compatriot to