a little dog which
pattered out of the obscurity and, raising his paws against her skirt,
adopted her instantaneously.

"He was my mother's dog," Allerton explained briefly. "He likes women,
but not men, though he's never taken to the women in the house. He'll
probably like you. His name is Beppo. I'll show you up at once."

The grandeur of the staircase was overpowering, and the little back
spare-room of a magnificence beyond all her experience outside of
movie-sets. The flowers on the chintz coverings were prettier than
real ones, and there was a private bath. Letty had heard of private
baths, but no picture she had ever painted equaled this dainty
apartment in which everything was of spotless white except where a
flight of blue-gray gulls skimmed over a blue summer sea.

The objects in the bedroom were too lovely to live with. On the toilet
table were boxes and trays which Letty supposed must be priceless, and
a set of brushes with silver backs. She couldn't brush her hair with a
brush with a silver back, because it would be journeying too far
beyond real life into that of fairy princesses. On opening the closet
to hang up her jacket the very hangers were puffed and covered with
the "sweetest flowered silks," so she hung her jacket on a peg.

But she wasn't comfortable, she wasn't happy. Alice had traveled too
far into Wonderland, and too suddenly. Unwillingly she lay down in a
bed too clean and soft for the human form, but she couldn't sleep in
it. She could only tremble and toss and lie awake and wish for the
morning. With the dawn she would be up and off, before any one caught
sight of her.

For Allerton had used words which had terrified her more than anything
that had yet happened or been said--"the other women in the house!"
Not till then had she sufficiently visualized the life into which he
was taking her to understand that there would be other women there.
Now that she knew it, she couldn't face them. She could have faced
men. Men, after all, were simple creatures with only a rudimentary
power of judgment. But women! God! She pulled the eiderdown about her
head so as not to cry out so loudly that she would be heard. What mad
thing had she done? What had she let herself in for? She didn't ask
what kind of women they would be--members of his family or servants.
She didn't care. All women were alike. The woman was not born who
wouldn't view a girl in her unconventional situation, "and especially
in that r