s and cheeks, and
fluffed their hair.

"Lord, he is a scream, that boy!" Mrs. Dolly Fairbanks might remark
appreciatively, offering Martie a mud-coloured powder-pad before
restoring it to the top of her ravelled silk stocking. "I'll bet he's a
scream in his own home!"

Martie could only smile forcedly in response. She was not in sympathy
with her companions. She hated the extravagance, the noise, and the
drinking that were a part of the evening's fun. Wallace's big, white,
ringed hand touched the precious greenbacks so readily; here! they
wanted another round of drinks; what did everybody want?

Wherever they went, the scene was the same: heat, tobacco smoke, music;
men drinking, women drinking, greenbacks changing hands, waiters
pocketing tips. Who liked it? she asked herself bitterly. In the old
days she and Sally had thought it would be fun to be in New York, to
know real actors and actresses, to go about to restaurants in taxicabs.
But what if the money that paid for the taxicabs were needed for Ted's
winter shirts and Margar's new crib? What if the actors were only
rather stupid and excitable, rather selfish and ignorant men and women,
to whom homes and children, gardens and books were only words?

Presumably the real actors, the real writers and painters led a mad and
merry life somewhere, wore priceless gowns and opened champagne; but it
was not here. These were the imitators, the pretenders, and the rich
idlers who had nothing better to do than believe in the pretenders.

Still, when Wallace suggested it, Martie found it wise to yield. He
might stumble home beside her at eleven, the worse for the eating and
drinking, but at least he did come home, and she could tell herself
that the men in the car who had smiled at his condition were only
brutes; she would never see them again; what did their opinion matter!
In other ways she yielded to him; peace, peace and affection at any
cost. Yet it cost her dear, for the possibility of another child's
coming was the one thought that frightened and dismayed her.

Strongly contrasted to Wallace's open-handedness when he was with his
friends was the strict economy Martie was obliged to practise in her
housekeeping. She went to market herself, as the spring came on,
heaping her little purchases at Margar's feet in the coach. Teddy
danced and chattered beside her, neighbours stopped to smile at the
baby. At the fruit carts, the meat market, the grocery, Martie pondered
a