n she thought? The dress she had
on had been given her by Ursula; Ursula's motor had carried her to the
feast from which they were both returning. She counted on spending the
following August with the Gillows at Newport... and the only alternative
was to go to California with the Bockheimers, whom she had hitherto
refused even to dine with.

"Of course, what you fancy is perfect nonsense, Ursula; and as to my
interfering--" Susy hesitated, and then murmured: "But if it will make
you any happier I'll arrange to see him less often...." She sounded the
lowest depths of subservience in returning Ursula's tearful kiss....

Susy Branch had a masculine respect for her word; and the next day she
put on her most becoming hat and sought out young Mr. Lansing in his
lodgings. She was determined to keep her promise to Ursula; but she
meant to look her best when she did it.

She knew at what time the young man was likely to be found, for he was
doing a dreary job on a popular encyclopaedia (V to X), and had told her
what hours were dedicated to the hateful task. "Oh, if only it were a
novel!" she thought as she mounted his dingy stairs; but immediately
reflected that, if it were the kind that she could bear to read, it
probably wouldn't bring him in much more than his encyclopaedia. Miss
Branch had her standards in literature....

The apartment to which Mr. Lansing admitted her was a good deal cleaner,
but hardly less dingy, than his staircase. Susy, knowing him to be
addicted to Oriental archaeology, had pictured him in a bare room
adorned by a single Chinese bronze of flawless shape, or by some
precious fragment of Asiatic pottery. But such redeeming features were
conspicuously absent, and no attempt had been made to disguise the
decent indigence of the bed-sitting-room.

Lansing welcomed his visitor with every sign of pleasure, and with
apparent indifference as to what she thought of his furniture. He seemed
to be conscious only of his luck in seeing her on a day when they had
not expected to meet. This made Susy all the sorrier to execute her
promise, and the gladder that she had put on her prettiest hat; and for
a moment or two she looked at him in silence from under its conniving
brim.

Warm as their mutual liking was, Lansing had never said a word of love
to her; but this was no deterrent to his visitor, whose habit it was
to speak her meaning clearly when there were no reasons, worldly or
pecuniary, for its concealmen