The proprietress knew everybody intimately--by sight. She was squat, dyed, rouged and penciled, badly, too. She was written down in the city directory as Madame de Chevreuse, but she was emphatically not of French extraction. In her alphabet there were generally but twenty-five letters; there were frequent times when she had no idea that there existed such a letter as "g." How she came to appropriate so distinguished a name as De Chevreuse was a puzzle. Her husband--for she had a husband--was always reading French history in English, and doubtless this name appealed to his imagination and romance. Nobody knew what Madame's real name was, nor that of her husband, for he was always called "Monseer." The reception-room was decorated after the prevailing fashion. There was gilt and pretense. There were numerous glass cases, filled with lotions and skin-foods and other articles of toilet; there were faceless heads adorned with all shades of hair, scalps, pompadours, and wigs. A few false-faces grinned or scowled or smirked from frames or corners where they were piled. There were tawdry masquerade costumes, too, and theatrical make-up. Curtains divided the several shampooing booths, and a screen cut off the general view of the operation of beauty. However, there were chinks large enough for the inquisitive, and everybody was inquisitive who patronized Madame de Chevreuse, pronounced Chevroose. And always and ever there prevailed without regeneration the odor of cheap perfumes and scented soaps. Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene left her carriage at the door, perfectly willing that the neighborhood should see her alight. She climbed the steps, stately and imposing. She was one of the few women who could overawe the homely girl in the hallway. "Is Madame at liberty?" "She will be shortly, Mrs. Haldene." Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene passed into the reception-room and sat down by the manicure table. The screen was in position. Some one was being beautified. From time to time she heard voices. "The make-up is taking splendidly to-day." "Well, it didn't last week. I sweat pink beads all over my new muslin." "It does peel in hot weather. I understand that Mrs. Welford is going to Dakota." "He ought to have the first chance there, if what I've heard about her is true. These society women make me tired." "They haven't much to occupy their time." "Oh, I don't know. They occupy their time in running around after the other women's husbands." "And the husbands?" "The other men's wives." "You aren't very charitable." "Nobody's ever given me any charity, I'm sure." From one of the shampooing booths: "But you would look very well in the natural grey, ma'am." "My husband doesn't think so." "But his hair is grey." "That doesn't lessen his regard for brunettes." Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene shrugged her majestic shoulders and gazed again into the street. She always regretted that Madame could not be induced to make private visits.