r pedestals and divans found no favor in Rosamund's eyes.
There was a good deal of homely chintz about which lit up the rather
old-fashioned rooms, and colors throughout the house were rather soft
than hard, were never emphatic or designed to startle or impress.

Rosamund, indeed, was by far the most vivid thing in the house, and
some people--not males--said she had taken care to supply for herself
a background which would "throw her up." These people, if they believed
what they said, did not know her.

She had on the first floor a little sitting-room all to herself; in this
were now to be found the books which had been in her bedroom in Great
Cumberland Place; the charwoman's black tray with the cabbage rose,
the mug from Greenwich, the flesh-colored vase, the china cow, the toy
trombone, and other souvenirs of her girlhood to which Rosamund "held."
On the brass-railed shelf of the writing-table stood a fine photogravure
of the Hermes of Olympia with little Dionysos on his arm. Very often,
many times every day, Rosamund looked up at Hermes and the Child from
account books, letters or notes, and then the green dream of Elis fell
about her softly again; and sometimes she gazed beyond the Hermes, but
instead of the wall of the chamber she saw, set in an oblong frame, and
bathed in green twilight, a bit of the world of Pan, with a branch of
wild olive flickering across the foreground; or, now and then, she saw
a falling star, dropping from its place in the sky down towards a green
wilderness, and carrying a wish from her with it, a wish that was surely
soon to be granted. Her life in the little house had been a happy life
hitherto, but--she looked again at the little Dionysos on the arm of
Hermes, nestling against his shoulder--how much happier it was going to
be, how much happier! She was not surprised, for deep in her heart she
always expected happiness.

People had been delightful to her and to Dion. Indeed, they had flocked
to the small green door (the Elis door) of 5 Little Market Street in
almost embarrassing numbers. That was partly Mr. Darlington's fault.
Naturally Rosamund's and Bruce Evelin's friends came; and of course
Dion's relations and friends came. That would really have been enough.
Rosamund enjoyed, but was not at all "mad about," society, and had no
wish to give up the greater part of her time to paying calls. But
Mr. Darlington could not forbear from kind efforts on behalf of his
delightful young frie