, you've no leaning toward medicine!"

"Well, then, something else, just as Jim would have done something else,
in that case! Office hours and responsibility, and meeting of men in
some other than a social way. You and I have somehow dragged a solution
out of it, Julie: we are happy in spite of all the blundering and
stumbling, but I've not got my Mother to thank for it, and neither have
you!"

"No, neither have I!" Julia said, with a long sigh, and for a few
moments they both watched the coals in silence. The room was quite dark
now; the firelight winked like a drowsy eye; here and there the gold of
a picture frame or the smooth curve of a bit of copper or brassware
twinkled. The windows showed opaque squares of dull gray; elsewhere was
only heavy shadow, except where Barbara's white gown made a spot of dull
relief in the gloom, and Julia's slipper buckles caught the light. A
great jar of lilacs, somewhere in the room, sent out a subtle and
delicious scent.

"Funny world, isn't it, Julie?"

"Oh, _funny_!" Julia put out her hand, and met Barbara's, and their
fingers pressed. "Nothing better in it, Barbara, than a friend like
you!" she said affectionately.

"That's what I was thinking," said Barbara.

The Studdifords went to San Mateo after the wedding, and Julia, who had
taken herself seriously in hand, entered upon the social life of the
summer with a perfectly simulated zest. She rode and drove, played golf
and tennis and polo, gossiped and spent hours at bridge, she went
tirelessly from luncheon to tea, from dinner to supper party, and when
Jim was detained in town, she went without him; a little piece of
self-reliance that pleased him very much. If society was not extremely
popular with Julia, Julia was very popular with society; her demure
beauty made her conspicuous wherever she went, and in July, prominent in
some theatricals at the clubhouse, she earned all honours before her.

Julia found the theatricals perilously delightful; the grease paint and
the ornate costume seemed like old friends; she was intoxicated and
enchanted by the applause. For several days after her most successful
performance she was thoughtful: what if she had never joined the
"Amazon" caste, never gone to Sausalito, followed naturally in the
footsteps of Connie Girard and Rose Ransome? She might have been a great
actress; she would have been a great beauty.

San Mateo, frankly, bored her, although she could not but admire the
beau