know for
sure.

Carlotta Wilson had heard of Eugene. She did not know of him by
reputation, but her mother's guarded remarks in regard to him and his
presence, the fact that he was an artist, that he was sick and working
as a laborer for his health aroused her interest. She had intended to
spend the period of her husband's absence at Narragansett with some
friends, but before doing so she decided to come home for a few days
just to see for herself. Instinctively her mother suspected curiosity on
her part in regard to Eugene. She threw out the remark that he might not
stay long, in the hope that her daughter might lose interest. His wife
was coming back. Carlotta discerned this opposition--this desire to keep
her away. She decided that she would come.

"I don't know that I want to go to Narragansett just now," she told her
mother. "I'm tired. Norman has just worn my nerves to a frazzle. I think
I'll come up home for a week or so."

"All right," said her mother, "but do be careful how you act now. This
Mr. Witla appears to be a very nice man and he's happily married. Don't
you go casting any looks in his direction. If you do I won't let him
stay here at all."

"Oh, how you talk," replied Carlotta irritably. "Do give me a little
credit for something. I'm not going up there to see him. I'm tired, I
tell you. If you don't want me to come I won't."

"It isn't that, I do want you. But you know how you are. How do you ever
expect to get free if you don't conduct yourself circumspectly? You know
that you--"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, I hope you're not going to start that old
argument again," exclaimed Carlotta defensively. "What's the use
beginning on that? We've been all over it a thousand times. I can't go
anywhere or do anything but what you want to fuss. Now I'm not coming up
there to do anything but rest. Why will you always start in to spoil
everything?"

"Well now, you know well enough, Carlotta--" reiterated her mother.

"Oh, chuck it. I'll not come. To hell with the house. I'll go to
Narragansett. You make me tired!"

Her mother looked at her tall daughter, graceful, handsome, her black
hair parted in rich folds, irritated and yet pleased with her force and
ability. If she would only be prudent and careful, what a figure she
might yet become! Her complexion was like old rose-tinted ivory, her
lips the color of dark raspberries, her eyes bluish grey, wide set,
large, sympathetic, kindly. What a pity she had not