ation earlier he would have had all sorts of affectations.
But affectation, thank heaven, is out of date. We wouldn't tolerate a
Grandcourt five minutes. Whom should you like to talk to? You will have
enough of me."

"I am sure there is no one I shall like half so well," said Isabel,
truthfully; and Flora loved her for not being gracious. "I think I
should like to know Mrs. Kaye."

"If you ever do, please give me the benefit of your investigations.
There are as many opinions of her as there are of cats. Vicky believes
in her and I don't. Jack is in love with her--with certain of his Celtic
instincts gone wrong."

She led Isabel over to Mrs. Kaye, who sat alone on a small sofa, sipping
her coffee and absently puffing at a cigarette. She was exquisitely
dressed and jewelled, and her little figure was round and symmetrical;
but nothing could obscure the ignoble modelling of her face. She might
have been misunderstood for a housemaid masquerading had it not been for
an air of assured power, a repose as monumental as that of a Chinese
joss.

She had cultivated a still radiance of expression which, when she
thought it worth her while, broke into a tender or brilliant smile;
although even then her large, ripe mouth retained a hint of the
austerity her strong will had imposed upon it--to the more complete
undoing of the masculine host. She smiled graciously as Miss Thangue
murmured the introduction and moved away, but did not offer the other
half of the sofa, and Isabel fetched a chair.

"You are the American cousin, of course," she said, with a slight lisp.
"We were all talking about you down at our end of the table, but I could
not see you until just now. I long to go to America, your novels
interest me so much. But one is always so busy--one never gets time for
the Atlantic. Lady Victoria says you come from that wonderful country,
California, but of course you know New York and Newport still better.
All Americans do."

"I have never seen Newport, and passed exactly a week in New York before
sailing."

Mrs. Kaye's expressive eyes, which had dwelt on Isabel with flattering
attention, fell to the tip of her cigarette. "No? I thought that all
smart Americans came from that sacred precinct."

"I am not in the least smart. I don't really _know_ half a dozen people
in America outside of the county in which I have spent the greater part
of my life--not even in San Francisco, where I was born." Isabel held
her cigarette po