such a life, and its
novelty interested him. A girl of twenty-two who received attention and
admiration in an enjoyable, matter-of-fact manner, as if she was used
to and neither over- nor under-valued it, who could make coffee and
conversation bearable and even exciting, who could hold her own against
patronage and slights, and be as piquant and self-possessed at home as
in society, who could be dazzling at night and charming in the morning,
was novelty enough in herself to make Bloomsbury Place attractive, even
at its dingiest, and there were other attractions aside from this one.

Phil in the studio, taking life philosophically, and regarding the world
and society in general with sublime and amiable tolerance, was as unique
in his way as Dolly was in hers; his handsome girl-wife, who had come
in to them with her handsome child in her arms, was unique also; Mollie
herself, who had opened the door and quite startled him with the mere
sight of her face,--well, Mollie had impressed him as she impressed
everybody. And he was quite observant enough to see the element of
matter-of-fact, half-jocular affection that bound them one to another;
he could not help seeing it, and it almost touched him. They were not a
sentimental assembly, upon the whole, but they were fond of each other
in a style peculiar to themselves, and ready to unite in any cause which
was the cause of the common weal. The family habit of taking existence
easily and regarding misfortunes from a serenely philosophical
standpoint, amused Ralph Gowan intensely. It had spiced Dolly's
conversation, and it spiced Phil's; indeed, it showed itself in more
than words. They had banded themselves against unavoidable tribulation,
and it could not fail to be beautifully patent to the far-seeing mind
that, taking all things together, tribulation had the worst of it.

They were an artistic study, Ralph Gowan found, and so, in his character
of a "lily of the field," he fell into the habit of studying them, as
an amusement at first, afterwards because his liking for them became
friendly and sincere.

It was an easy matter to call again after the first visit,--people
always did call again at Bloomsbury Place, and Ralph Gowan was no
exception to the rule. He met Phil in the city, and sauntered home with
him to discuss art and look at his work; he invited him to first-class
little dinners, and introduced him to one or two men worth knowing;
in short, it was not long before t