No one but poor old Denise will ever love her "best of all." She has had her day of being first. Even in heaven papa has found the one he so long lost and is happy. She can never be first with him again. He hardly misses her, Violet; he has had her only at such long intervals, such brief whiles. In the silence she cries herself to sleep the first night in her new home. CHAPTER XI. Men, like bullets, go farthest when they are smoothest.--JEAN PAUL. Floyd Grandon begins the next morning by treating his wife as if she were a princess born. His fine breeding stands in stead of husbandly love. Briggs has orders to take her and Miss Cecil out in the carriage every day. Jane is to wait on her. Even Cecil is not allowed to tease, and instructed to call her mamma. He escorts her in to the table, and at a glance the servant pays her outward deference at least. "Violet," he says, after breakfast, "will you drive over with me to see Denise on a little business? No, Cecil, my darling, you cannot go now, and I shall bring your mamma back very soon. Be a cheerful little girl, and you shall have her afterward." Cecil knows that tone means obedience. She is not exactly cheerful, but neither is she cross. They drive in Marcia's pony phaeton. "Nothing in the world is too good for us," Mrs. Grandon says, with a sneer. "There will be open war between her and Marcia." "She will be likely to have a pony carriage of her own," observes Gertrude, who resolves to mention this project to Floyd. "Oh, yes. I suppose the economy for others, means extravagance here. _We_ can afford it." Gertrude makes no further comment. Violet glances timidly at her husband's face, and sees a determination that she is to misinterpret many times before she can read it aright. She is not exactly happy. All this state and attention render her nervous, it is so unlike her simple life. "Violet," he begins, "Denise was speaking yesterday of--of----" How shall he get to it. "There was no time to provide you any clothes, any--You see I am not much of a lady's man. I have been out in India and Egypt, and where they keep women shut up in harems, and never had occasion to think much about it. I want to take you and Denise to the city; perhaps you would go to-day?" with a man's promptness. Violet is puzzled, alarmed, and some notion of delicacy almost leads her to protest. "I am too abrupt, I suppose," he says, ruefully, looking almost as distressed as she. "But you see it is necessary." "Then if Denise----"