elf. It had in it an echo
of France and also of old New York. As such it appealed to him and,
therefore, to her. There and then Marie became known as Miss Leroy
and, incidentally, very busy.

Every day Annette, Juliette and Marguerite had frocks for her to try
on. There were hats to go with those frocks. There was lingerie to be
selected, stuffs immaterial as moonbeams, cambrics that could be drawn
through a ring. In addition, there was Signor Tambourini, who was to
teach her how to handle her voice, and Baron Mesnilmontant, who was to
teach her to handle a horse. When she so desired she had but to
telephone and in five minutes there was a victoria at the door. For
her sitting-room the florist who had so disturbed Mr. Cohen fetched
flowers every other day.

In the flowers there were thorns, of course. Marie worried about many
things, yet mainly because Mrs. Loftus had not yet "seen and learned
to love her." Against that, though, there were difficulties. At first
Mrs. Loftus had a dreadful cold. Then she had gone out of town to
recuperate. This was very unfortunate, but like the quarters, only
temporary. Loftus assured her of that. What he said was gospel.

The position in which the girl was placed worried her nevertheless.
She knew it was wrong. But always she consoled herself with the belief
that shortly it would be righted. On that belief she would have staked
her soul. Had he not sworn it? Precisely how she would have acted had
she realized that he had lied like a thief one may surmise and never
know. The misery of life is the necessity of becoming accustomed to
certain things. There are natures that adapt themselves more readily
than others. There are also natures that cannot adapt themselves at
all. Had Marie realized the truth it may be that she would have beaten
her head against the walls. Yet it may also be that in the end
adaptability would have come. But not happiness. Happiness consists,
if it consists in anything, in being on good terms with oneself. Had
Marie known the truth never could she have been that. In the
circumstances it was considerate of Loftus to withhold it from her.
But Loftus was a very considerate person. He hated tears, and scenes
he frankly abominated.

Loftus, though considerate, was vain. It was regrettable to him that
he could not parade Marie about. But social New York is severe. Among
its members it refuses to countenance any open disregard for what's
what. Though what occurs beh