"Not at all--oh, of course she doesn't dance on tables and quote Maeterlinck, but she does have an instinct for the niceties and the proprieties--her little house is so sweet--everything just exactly right--it may be only a single rose, but always chosen so carefully to melt into the background; and such adorable china--I simply die of envy every time I see her Lowestoft plates. And such a quiet way of reproving any bad taste--the time that crank university professor was out there, and spoke of the radical labor movement, and Mattie just smiled at him and said, 'If you don't mind, let's not drag filthy lumberjacks into the drawing-room--they'd hate it just as much as we would, don't you think, perhaps?'" "Oh, _damn_ nice china! Oh, let's hang all spinsters who are brightly reproving," Claire was silently raging. "And particularly and earnestly confound all nicety and discretion of living." She tried to break the spell of the Gilsons' fussing. She false-heartedly fawned upon Mr. Gilson, and inquired: "Is there anything very exciting going on at the mills, Gene?" "Exciting?" asked Mr. Gilson incredulously. "Why, how do you mean?" "Don't you find business exciting? Why do you do it then?" "Oh, wellllll---- Of course---- Oh, yes, exciting in a way. Well---- Well, we've had a jolly interesting time making staves for candy pails--promises to be wonderfully profitable. We have a new way of cutting them. But you wouldn't be interested in the machinery." "Of course not. You don't bore Eva with your horrid, headachy business-problems, do you?" Claire cooed, with low cunning. "Indeed no. Don't think a chap ought to inflict his business on his wife. The home should be a place of peace." "Yes," said Claire. But she wasn't thinking "Yes." She was thinking, "Milt, what worries me now isn't how I can risk letting the 'nice people' meet you. It's how I can ever waste you on the 'nice people.' Oh, I'm spoiled for cut-glass-and-velvet afternoons. Eternal spiritual agony over blue-room taps is too high a price even for four-poster beds. I want to be driving! hiking! living!" That afternoon, after having agreed that Mr. Johnny Martin was a bore, Mr. and Mrs. Gilson decided to run out to the house of Mr. Johnny Martin. They bore along the lifeless Claire. Mr. Martin was an unentertaining bachelor who entertained. There were a dozen supercilious young married people at his bayside cottage when the Gilsons arrived. Among them were two eyebrow-arching young matrons whom Claire had not met--Mrs. Corey and Mrs. Betz. "We've all heard of you, Miss Boltwood," said Mrs. Betz. "You come from the East, don't you?" "Yes," fluttered Claire, trying to be cordial. Mrs. Corey and Mrs. Betz looked at each other in a motionless wink, and Mrs. Corey prodded: "From New York?" "No. Brooklyn." Claire tried not to make it too short.