oken, and the street itself was horribly torn. Here
and there it had sunken, and looked as if a wave had passed over it and
left an impress. A large stone church had fallen, one tower into the
street and another upon the neighboring house. The stone walls of houses
were cracked; one of the "mansions" had a zigzag crevice from top to
bottom.

And the proudest had brought forth chairs and were sitting in their
gardens or on the pavement. Isabel recognized a girl who had been one of
the belles of Mrs. Hofer's ball, clad in a bath-gown and a pair of
socks, and another, noted for her gowns, passed in a wagon, a
handkerchief tied about her head and a half-filled pillow-case on her
lap. Isabel knew that both had lived in one of the beautiful private
hotels on the avenue, and she had already heard that it was so badly
wrecked that the guests had been thankful to get out alive and had not
ventured to return for their clothes. The stately building had been run
up in a night, its feet set in sand, and the wonder was it was not lying
across the avenue.

Many of the refugees had already reached this third and last wide street
of refuge, and although the greater number were still down at the
southern end, others had pushed on, intending to walk to the Presidio,
where they were likely to be fed. They were resting on their cumbrous
belongings, strange groups, unkempt and half dressed. Many of the
householders had sent within for food, and one wealthy dame, whose maid
had had time to build her coiffure and groom her properly, sat with a
dirty frowsy baby on her lap and was coaxing it to take milk from a
spoon, its bottle having been overlooked in the flight. The mother was
sitting on the bureau her husband had rescued, by no means abashed, nor
even surprised.

Isabel crossed the street and ascended and descended again, traversed
several blocks to the north, and finally approached the house in which
the Stones had their apartment. Although high-perched, it was uninjured,
and as Isabel climbed the hill she saw Paula and her children seated,
with many others, on the long flight of steps. Paula waved her hand and
walked down composedly to meet her sister. She was dressed, laced, and
painted. A sufficient time had elapsed since the earthquake to permit
her ruling passion to regain its throne.

"Well, I am glad to see you!" She greeted Isabel with something of the
grand air. She felt almost pompous with the sense of playing her part in
a