earnestly
confound all nicety and discretion of living."

She tried to break the spell of the Gilsons' fussing. She
false-heartedly fawned upon Mr. Gilson, and inquired:

"Is there anything very exciting going on at the mills, Gene?"

"Exciting?" asked Mr. Gilson incredulously. "Why, how do you mean?"

"Don't you find business exciting? Why do you do it then?"

"Oh, wellllll---- Of course---- Oh, yes, exciting in a way. Well----
Well, we've had a jolly interesting time making staves for candy
pails--promises to be wonderfully profitable. We have a new way of
cutting them. But you wouldn't be interested in the machinery."

"Of course not. You don't bore Eva with your horrid, headachy
business-problems, do you?" Claire cooed, with low cunning.

"Indeed no. Don't think a chap ought to inflict his business on his
wife. The home should be a place of peace."

"Yes," said Claire.

But she wasn't thinking "Yes." She was thinking, "Milt, what worries me
now isn't how I can risk letting the 'nice people' meet you. It's how I
can ever waste you on the 'nice people.' Oh, I'm spoiled for
cut-glass-and-velvet afternoons. Eternal spiritual agony over blue-room
taps is too high a price even for four-poster beds. I want to be
driving! hiking! living!"

That afternoon, after having agreed that Mr. Johnny Martin was a bore,
Mr. and Mrs. Gilson decided to run out to the house of Mr. Johnny
Martin. They bore along the lifeless Claire.

Mr. Martin was an unentertaining bachelor who entertained. There were a
dozen supercilious young married people at his bayside cottage when the
Gilsons arrived. Among them were two eyebrow-arching young matrons whom
Claire had not met--Mrs. Corey and Mrs. Betz.

"We've all heard of you, Miss Boltwood," said Mrs. Betz. "You come from
the East, don't you?"

"Yes," fluttered Claire, trying to be cordial.

Mrs. Corey and Mrs. Betz looked at each other in a motionless wink, and
Mrs. Corey prodded:

"From New York?"

"No. Brooklyn." Claire tried not to make it too short.

"Oh." The tacit wink was repeated. Mrs. Corey said brightly--much too
brightly--"I was born in New York. I wonder if you know the Dudenants?"

Now Claire knew the Dudenants. She had danced with that young ass Don
Dudenant a dozen times. But the devil did enter into her and possess
her, and, to Eva Gilson's horror, Claire said stupidly, "No-o, but I
think I've heard of them."

The condemning wink was repeated.

"I hear you