It was a fault of Marian's not to remain long contented in any place, and so tiring of the country she had returned to the great city, urged on by a strange desire it may be to see Mrs. Wilford Cameron, to know just how she lived, to judge if she were happy, and perhaps--some time see Wilford Cameron, herself unknown, for not for the world would she have met face to face the man who had so often stood by Genevra Lambert's grave in the churchyard beyond the sea. Thinking she might succeed better alone, she had hired a room far up the narrow stairway of a high, somber-looking building, and then from her old acquaintances, of whom she had several in the city, she had solicited work. More than once she had passed the handsome house on Madison Square where Katy lived, walking slowly and gazing with dim eyes which could not weep at Wilford Cameron's luxurious home, and contrasting it with hers, that one room, which yet was not wholly uninviting, for where Marian went there was always an air of humble comfort; and Katy, as she crossed the threshold, uttered an exclamation of delight at the cheerful, airy aspect of the apartment, with its bright ingrain carpet, its simple shades of white, its chintz-covered lounge, its one rocking-chair, its small parlor stove, and its pots of flowers upon the broad window sill. "Oh, Marian," she exclaimed, tripping across the floor, and impulsively throwing her arms around Miss Hazelton's neck, "I am so glad to meet some one from home. It seems almost like Helen I am kissing," and her lips again met those of Marian Hazelton, who amid her own joy at finding Katy unchanged, wondered what the Camerons would say to see their Mrs. Wilford kissing a poor seamstress whom they would have spurned. But Katy did not care for Camerons then, or even think of them, as in her rich basquine and pretty hat, with emeralds and diamonds sparkling on her fingers, she sat down by Marian, whose hands, though delicate and small, showed marks of labor such as Katy had never known. "You must forgive me for going over your house," Marian said, after they had talked together a moment, and Katy had told how sorry she was to miss the call. "I could not resist the temptation, and it did me so much good, although I must confess to a good cry when I came back and thought of the difference between us." There was a quiver of her lip and a tone in her voice which touched Katy's heart, and she tried to comfort her, forgetting entirely whether what she said was proper or not, and impetuously letting out that even in houses like hers there was trouble. Not that she was unhappy in the least, for she was not; but, oh! the fuss it was to be fashionable and keep from doing anything to shock his folks, who were so particular about every little thing, even to the way she tied her bonnet and sat in a chair.