“I have written miles of it, and have made some of the most beautiful bonfires in history.” Hermia laughed. “Could you never be consistently serious?” “Yes, I could,” said Quintard, briefly. Hermia looked at the door. “Higgins is coming to announce luncheon,” she said. * * * * * CHAPTER XXVII. FIVE POINTS OF VIEW. At five o’clock Mrs. Dykman, Helen Simms, and Cryder dropped in for a cup of tea, and Miss Starbruck came down-stairs. Quintard insisted that, in spite of Miss Starbruck’s open disapproval of him, she was his proudest conquest; and her abuse was certainly growing milder. She rarely failed to appear at these informal tea-drinkings; there was just enough of the worldly flavor about them to fascinate without frightening her; and it was noticeable that to whatever Quintard chose to say she listened with a marked and somewhat amusing interest. The poor old lady was no more proof against personal magnetism and the commanding manliness which was Quintard’s most aggressive characteristic than her less rigid sisters. Quintard threatened to marry her and deprive Hermia of her only natural protector, but Miss Starbruck was as yet innocent of his designs. “This is quite a family party,” said Helen; “let us draw our chairs close to the fire and warm ourselves with brotherly affection; it is so beastly cold out. But by this great log fire one thinks himself in the hall of an old English castle; and the streets of New York are not. I feel almost romantic.” “Let us tell stories,” suggested Cryder. “No,” replied Helen, promptly, “I don’t want to listen to long stories. You would tell your own, and I can’t understand dialect. Besides, I want to talk about myself—I beg that prerogative of your sex. As this is a family party, I am going to tell my woes and ask advice. I want to get married! Shall I, or shall I not?” “Who is the man?” asked Cryder. “How can we advise until we know whether he is worthy to buy your bonnets?” “I have not decided. The man is not much of a point. I simply want to be married that I may be free,” and she heaved a sigh. “Free of what?” asked Hermia, sarcastically. “Of freedom?” “Oh, this is not freedom, my dear. A girl always has to be chaperoned. A married woman chaperones. Oh, the difference!” “But where do you propose to keep the future Mr. Helen Simms?” asked Cryder, laughing. “At his club, or in a rose-colored boudoir. Mine will be blue.” “Helen Simms! you are the most immoral young woman I ever—ever——.” The wrathful voice broke down, and all turned to Miss Starbruck with amused sympathy. “Are you not yet used to our wicked Gotham?” asked Quintard, taking a chair beside her. “No!” Miss Starbruck had recovered her voice. “And I think it abominable that the holy institution of matrimony should be so defamed.”