“A woman of her coloring and eyes should wear gray-greens and dull blues,” replied Claire, as she picked up the wee sacque which Mrs. Larry was embroidering for Lisbeth. “A-hem!” interrupted Mr. Larry, lowering his evening paper to study with amused eyes the two pretty women seated on the other side of the living-room table. “In real estate notes, there is a paragraph to the effect that rents in Kansas City have advanced ten per cent.” Claire tossed the bit of French flannel back into Mrs. Larry’s lap. “Wh-what’s that? Ten per cent.? Goodness gracious----” “If they try it in New York, we’ll simply have to move--we’re paying every cent for rent that we can spare--this minute.” “Who said anything about apartment-house rents?” demanded Mr. Larry. “This is an article on lofts and warehouses.” “Brute!” cried Mrs. Larry, glancing at Claire, who flushed furiously. “I hope that gave you great satisfaction, Larry Hall,” she said severely, even as she flung him a dazzling smile. “Well, it accomplished its purpose--it checked an impending avalanche of colors, materials and hats. When two women begin to talk clothes, a man must use drastic measures, or silently steal away. Now, of course, if you like, I’ll----” He half rose from his easy chair and fairly challenged Mrs. Larry with his glance. “Indeed, you shan’t go! We’ll talk about anything that suits the tired business man, or start the Victrola, or go to see moving pictures----” They laughed together, these three who had come to have so many pleasant hours together. Claire Pierce had fallen into the habit of spending with Mr. and Mrs. Larry most of the evenings when she was free from social engagements. She felt the need of their unspoken sympathy and understanding attitude. The interests closest to her heart these days found little response in her own home. Mrs. Pierce belonged to a number of advanced organizations, contributed liberally to the cause of suffrage and prated much of individual rights. But in matters matrimonial she still believed that a daughter should bow to the maternal will and be practical. She considered marriage between Claire and Jimmy Graves a direct defiance of her wishes, and altogether impractical. She had been more relieved than sympathetic when Claire and Jimmy had quarreled. And when the small inconspicuous solitaire had reappeared on Claire’s finger and letters from Kansas City arrived with their old-time regularity, she was tolerant, but not congratulatory. Mrs. Pierce’s idea of the proverbial cottage in which love should thrive among roses, was a Colonial mansion on a Long Island estate, reached by a high-powered motor-car. In the house of Larry, Claire found not only the sympathy she needed in her lover’s absence, but help in her absorbing task of studies in household economics. Somehow, too, the contentment in her friends’ simply appointed home made her own way seem easier. One could be happy on a small income, if she made the most of little joys.