cause she had been informed that Mr.
Bennet had "rushed" the visiting lady at the Chestnut's dinner-dance,
and so a very natural curiosity as to the personality of the visiting
lady craved gratification as soon as possible.

Mr. Bennet as a subject was exhausted before very long, for Miss Warren
was so very unresponsive that it was hard to continue the discussion of
him in just the way it had started. Arethusa felt a shyness descending
upon her at the cold reception of her enthusiasm for the Wonderful
Being who had so recently come into her life. Rhapsodies are well-nigh
impossible unless the mood of the listener answers in some small
degree.

So the conversation languished once more.

Miss Warren languidly dangled her gold purse and stared through the
lace curtains of the window nearest her. It was gloriously autumnal as
to weather this afternoon, and the world was gay to the vision. The
trees were bright with their rapidly turning Joseph's coat of foliage,
and the sunlight streamed like liquid gold. Overhead, the sky was the
very clearest of bright blues. Lenox Avenue was unusually full of those
who had been tempted out to revel in it; babies and nurses strolled
past on the sidewalk, and loaded automobiles sped by in a sort of
procession in the street.

Arethusa's regard was largely for the outside also. It was such a day
as she adored. Then, feeling it was quite beyond her power to sit so
unsociably so close to anyone in the same room, when it was so glorious
a world they were both viewing, she turned back to Miss Warren with a
friendly little smile.

"It's a perfectly beautiful day, isn't it?"

Miss Warren seemed to thaw a trifle. "It's just gorgeous outside!"

"I like fall better than spring, always," replied Arethusa, "and
especially when it's like this."

"Yes," agreed Miss Warren.

The silence descended once more, to be first broken by Miss Warren with
the polite inquiry, "Do you play bridge, Miss Worthington?"

Arethusa's surprised gray eyes were removed from the window to which
they had returned with the silence, to be fixed on Miss Warren.

"Do I what?" she exclaimed.

"Play bridge."

Miss Warren made this contribution to conversation for no other reason
than that it had a strong personal appeal. And from her point of view,
it had more possibilities as a theme for development than had the
weather; the silence had grown almost oppressive.

Arethusa laughed gaily. She had played a game called