ple myself spiritually and suffer
from no pangs of conscience as most New Yorkers do!

However, we managed it, and in this wise. I said:

"Aubrey, if you are willing, we can save a great deal in this way."

Even at this early stage the Angel always grew deeply attentive when I
talked of saving anything.

"We can and must order the finest springs and mattresses for the beds,
for of all the meanness in this world the meanest is to put a bad bed
in the guest-chamber, and that is where most housekeepers are perfectly
willing to economize. But we can and will buy white iron beds with
brass trimmings for almost nothing,--they are all the same size as the
fine brass ones,--so that at any time when we find ourselves vulgarly
rich and able to live up to the dinner-table we shall feel perfectly
justified in discarding them, and there you are!"

"But how will it look?" said the man.

"How will our bank-account look, if we don't?"

"I know. But I thought women were afraid of what other women would
say," said the Angel.

"Now, Aubrey," I said, "If we have economized on ourselves, or rather
included ourselves in a general scheme of economy in order the better
to provide for our guests, I think even New Yorkers would hesitate to
criticize the Jardines' iron beds,--especially if they ever got a
chance to disport themselves on the Jardines' Turkish springs!"

"There's something in that," said the Angel.

CHAPTER III

ON THE SUBJECT OF JANITORS

I used to pride myself on being practical and on possessing no small
degree of that peculiar brand of sense known as "horse." However, like
most women inclined to take a rosy view of their virtues and to pass
lightly over their obvious faults, I know now that I prided myself on
the one thing in my make-up conspicuous by its absence. For I am
luxurious to a degree, and so fond of beauty and grace that I feel with
the man who said, "Give me the luxuries of life and I will do without
the necessities."

This explanation is due to any man, woman, or child who has ever lived
in a New York apartment, and who is moved to follow the fortunes of the
Jardines further. Also this conversation took place before some of the
events already narrated transpired, and while we were still at the
Waldorf.

"Now, Aubrey," I said, "to begin at the beginning, marriage is supposed
to perfect existence all around, isn't it?"

"It does," said Aubrey.

"No, now, I am speaking seriously. It h