Julian smiled, and ran his fingers through his hair, sticking it up rather on end, much to Mrs. Courtenay's abhorrence. "I like it more than anything else in the world!" he said. "I'm doing it quite for myself, and for nobody else." "Really!"--and Mrs. Courtenay gave him a glance of displeased surprise--"How dreadful!" Here she turned to Maryllia. "Au revoir, my dear, for the present! As you won't allow any Bridge, I'm going to sleep. Then I shall do massage for an hour. May I have tea in my own room?" "Certainly!" said Maryllia. "Thanks!" She glided out, with a frou-frou of her silken skirts and a trail of perfume floating after her. The three she left behind her exchanged amused glances. "Wonderful woman!" said Adderley,--"And, no doubt, a perfectly happy one!" "Why of course! I don't suppose she has ever shed a tear, lest it should make a wrinkle!" And Cicely, as she made these remarks, patted her own thin, sallow cheeks consolingly. "Look at my poor face and hers! Mine is all lined and puckered with tears and sad thoughts--SHE hasn't a wrinkle! And I'm fourteen, and she's forty! Oh dear! Why did I cry so much over all the sorrow and beauty of life when I was young!" "Ah--and why didn't you have a pianista-pianola!" said Adderley. They all laughed,--and then at Maryllia's suggestion, joined the rest of the guests in the garden. That same evening when Maryllia was dressing for dinner, there came a tap at her bedroom door, and in response to her 'Come in!' Eva Beaulyon entered. "May I speak to you alone for a minute?" she said. Maryllia assented, giving a sign to her maid to leave the room. "Well, what is it, Eva?" said Maryllia, when the girl had gone-- "Anything wrong?" Eva Beaulyon sank into a chair somewhat wearily, and her beautiful violet eyes, despite artistic 'touching up' looked hard and tired. "Not so far as I am concerned,"--she said, with a little mirthless laugh--"Only I think you behaved very oddly this afternoon. Do you really mean that you object to Bridge on Sundays, or was it only a put on?" "It was a put off!" responded Maryllia, gaily--"It stopped the intended game! Seriously, Eva, I meant it and I do mean it. There's too much Bridge everywhere--and I don't think it necessary,--I don't think it even decent--to keep it going on Sundays." "I suppose the parson of your parish has told you that!" said Lady Beaulyon, suddenly. Maryllia's eyes met hers with a smile. "The parson of the parish has not presumed to dictate to me on my actions,"--she said--"I should deeply resent it if he did." "Well, he had no eyes for anyone but you in the church this morning. A mole could have seen that in the dark. He was preaching AT us and FOR you all the while!" A slight flush swept over Maryllia's cheeks,--then she laughed. "My dear Eva! I never thought you were imaginative! The parson has nothing whatever to do with me,--why, this is the first Sunday I have ever been to his church,--you know I never go to church."