d hardened, as it does with so many as the years come on; but she
was still in full bloom--a little late in the summer, but in full bloom.

"Oh yes; and this Rembrandt--I'm surprised! I did not know your
husband's collection was so representative. Israels, I see, and
Gerome, and Meissonier! Gad! It is a representative collection, isn't
it?"

"Some of the things are excellent," she commented, with an air, aping
Cowperwood and others, "but a number will be weeded out
eventually--that Paul Potter and this Goy--as better examples come into
the market."

She had heard Cowperwood say as much, over and over.

Finding that conversation was possible between them in this easy,
impersonal way, Aileen became quite natural and interested, pleased and
entertained by his discreet and charming presence. Evidently he did
not intend to pay much more than a passing social call. On the other
hand, Lynde was studying her, wondering what effect his light, distant
air was having. As he finished a very casual survey of the gallery he
remarked:

"I have always wondered about this house. I knew Lord did it, of
course, and I always heard it was well done. That is the dining-room,
I suppose?"

Aileen, who had always been inordinately vain of the house in spite of
the fact that it had proved of small use socially, was delighted to
show him the remainder of the rooms. Lynde, who was used, of course,
to houses of all degrees of material splendor--that of his own family
being one of the best--pretended an interest he did not feel. He
commented as he went on the taste of the decorations and wood-carving,
the charm of the arrangement that permitted neat brief vistas, and the
like.

"Just wait a moment," said Aileen, as they neared the door of her own
boudoir. "I've forgotten whether mine is in order. I want you to see
that."

She opened it and stepped in.

"Yes, you may come," she called.

He followed. "Oh yes, indeed. Very charming. Very graceful--those
little lacy dancing figures--aren't they? A delightful color scheme. It
harmonizes with you exactly. It is quite like you."

He paused, looking at the spacious rug, which was of warm blues and
creams, and at the gilt ormolu bed. "Well done," he said, and then,
suddenly changing his mood and dropping his talk of decoration (Aileen
was to his right, and he was between her and the door), he added: "Tell
me now why won't you come to the barn-dance to-night? It would be
charming