could do arithmetic at school and
still believes that two and two make five. I shall be delighted to get
out of this skyscraper for a few days." And then she asked,
insinuatingly, if she could not take the children.

But upon this point Isabel was obdurate, knowing that if Paula once
planted her entire family in the Belmont House the police could not
uproot them. Moreover, although she liked children, she detested
Paula's. They were pert and spoiled, untidy and noisy, although handsome
and highly bred of feature. She never saw them that she did not fall
into a sort of panic at the thought that similar little creatures full
of present and potential nuisance might have been her own, and then felt
extraordinarily light of spirit in the reflection that she had escaped a
lot she had as yet seen no reason to envy.

"Have you no nurse?" she asked.

"Oh yes. She has been threatening to leave--has been _fearfully_
disagreeable--but I suppose she will stay, now that I can pay her." Mrs.
Paula wisely gave up the point and invited her visitor to remain for
luncheon. But Isabel rose hastily.

"I must go home and see that everything is in order--the beds aired, and
lunch prepared for Mr. Gwynne in case he should turn up. Then you will
come about four? And we will dine out somewhere?"

"I'll pack all the decent things I possess and send them up right away.
Fortunately the dress Lyster gave me last month is quite fresh, so I
shall not feel too small beside your magnificence, and I am sure that
Mr. Gwynne, even if he is an Englishman, does not dress any better than
Lyster."

"Not a bit. We shall have some jolly times together. Mr. Gwynne is very
anxious to meet you."

"Well, he has not been in any particular hurry. Still, it will be
fearfully nice, and I am so glad you have come down at last."

XX

It was characteristic of Mrs. Paula that she was not in the least
jealous of Isabel's beauty. She was quite positive that no man would
hesitate between her own exuberant prettiness and a face and form that
looked as if it had stepped down from a dingy old canvas. It was true
that Stone admired Isabel--with reservations to his wife--and had openly
avowed his intention to paint her when he emerged from the tyranny of
the pot-boiler. He had hoped that Isabel would take the graceful hint
and order a portrait, but Isabel had succumbed to the pleadings of too
many students of indifferent talent, and had no intention of undergoin