etentious far than this interior of Brent's. But her
unerring instinct of those born with good taste knew at first
view of them that they were simply costly; there were
beautiful things in them, fine carvings and paintings and
tapestries, but personality was lacking. And without
personality there can be no unity; without unity there can be
no harmony--and without harmony, no beauty.

Looking round her now, she had her first deep draught of
esthetic delight in interior decoration. She loved this quiet
dignity, this large simplicity--nothing that obtruded, nothing
that jarred, everything on the same scale of dark coloring and
large size. She admired the way the mirror, without pretense
of being anything but a mirror, enhanced the spaciousness of
the room and doubled the pleasure it gave by offering another
and different view of it.

Last of all Susan caught sight of herself--a slim, slightly
stooped figure, its white dress and its big black hat with
white trimmings making it stand out strongly against the
rather somber background. In a curiously impersonal way her
own sad, wistful face interested her. A human being's face is
a summary of his career. No man can realize at a thought what
he is, can epitomize in just proportion what has been made of
him by experience of the multitude of moments of which life is
composed. But in some moods and in some lights we do get such
an all-comprehending view of ourselves in looking at our own
faces. As she had instinctively felt, there was a world of
meaning in the contrast between her pensive brow above
melancholy eyes and the blood-red line of her rouged lips.

The butler descended. "Mr. Brent is in his library, on the
fourth floor," said he. "Will you kindly step this way, ma'am?"

Instead of indicating the stairway, he went to the panel next
the chimney piece. She saw that it was a hidden door
admitting to an elevator. She entered; the door closed; the
elevator ascended rapidly. When it came to a stop the door
opened and she was facing Brent.

"Thank you for coming," said he, with almost formal courtesy.

For all her sudden shyness, she cast a quick but seeing look
round. It was an overcast day; the soft floods of liquid
light--the beautiful light of her beloved City of the
Sun--poured into the big room through an enormous window of
clear glass which formed the entire north wall. Round the
other walls from floor almost to lofty ceiling were books in
solid