elinda, ordered fruit, cake, and a glass of
milk, and had installed Dulcie upon the sofa with a lapful of books.
That was the beginning.

But Barres still did not entirely understand what particular magnet
drew the child to his studio. The place was full of beautiful things,
books, rugs, pictures, fine old furniture, cabinets glimmering with
porcelains, ivories, jades, Chinese crystals. These all, in minutest
detail, seemed to fascinate the girl. Yet, after giving her permission
to enter whenever she desired, often while reading or absorbed in
other affairs, he became conscious of being watched; and, glancing up,
would frequently surprise her sitting there very silently, with an
open book on her knees, and her strange grey eyes intently fixed on
him.

Then he would always smile and say something friendly; and usually
forget her the next moment in his absorption of whatever work he had
under way.

Only one other man inhabiting Dragon Court ever took the trouble to
notice or speak to the child--James Westmore, the sculptor. And he was
very friendly in his vigorous, jolly, rather boisterous way, catching
her up and tossing her about as gaily and irresponsibly as though she
were a rag doll; and always telling her he was her adopted godfather
and would have to chastise her if she ever deserved it. Also, he was
always urging her to hurry and grow up, because he had a wedding
present for her. And though Dulcie's smile was friendly, and
Westmore's nonsense pleased the shy child, she merely submitted, never
made any advance.

* * * * *

Barres's menage was accomplished by two specimens of mankind, totally
opposite in sex and colour; Selinda, a blonde, slant-eyed, and very
trim Finn, doing duty as maid; and Aristocrates W. Johnson, lately
employed in the capacity of waiter on a dining-car by the New York
Central Railroad--tall, dignified, graceful, and Ethiopian--who cooked
as daintily as a debutante trifling with culinary duty, and served at
table with the languid condescension of a dilettante and wealthy
amateur of domestic arts.

* * * * *

Barres ascended the two low, easy flights of stairs and unlocked his
door. Aristocrates, setting the table in the dining-room, approached
gracefully and relieved his master of hat, coat, and stick.

Half an hour later, a bath and fresh linen keyed up his already
lively spirits; he whistled while he tied his tie, took a