“But _why_? I can’t understand it. There’s something damn queer about it, Horace. He was crazy about that other girl, and at least she was good-looking. How did this one get hold of him? Of course he’s an awful fool; anyone could make a monkey of him, but still--a dowdy woman! That _is_ a mystery! And right after his being engaged to that other one!” “He seems very happy,” said Horace. He was determined to make the best of this business. “Lord!” cried Julie, “They don’t live _here_!” The motor had stopped before a very small house of unstained shingles, an unfinished looking little house, standing in a row of similar houses in a quite select residential park of the cheaper sort. One knows what that implies; the sun-baked street lined with stripling trees that give no shade; not a fence, not a hedge, every porch occupied and public as the sidewalk, the children in white Sunday shoes, everything glaring, immeasurably common, and cheap, sweltering in the July sun. “Does he really live in this hole?” she asked. “They haven’t much money,” said Horace, apologetically. “Then give them some, for Heaven’s sake, and get that poor boy away from here!” She jumped out, aware that everyone on every porch was watching her, walked along the tiny path and up the front steps. Minnie at once opened the door, and behind her stood Lionel. Minnie, outwardly polite and modest, was absorbed in her inspection of Julie; she didn’t know what she was saying, or hear a word that was said to her for a few moments. She formed an instantaneous opinion of her, judged her “fast” and “vulgar,” and led her into the little sitting-room. She knew this was going to be a grave encounter; she saw that domestic virtues would have little significance in those eyes. “Would you like to come upstairs to take off your hat?” asked Minnie. “No thanks,” she answered, carelessly, without turning her head. “Li, you’ve got awfully thin. Don’t you eat enough? Have you got a good cook?” “I’m the cook,” said Minnie, with her wide, bright smile, “I hope I’m a good one.” “Rather!” cried Lionel. “She’s a wonder, Julie.” “Is she?” said Julie. “That’s nice. I’ve never met a cook before.” Now that was warning enough; it was a challenge and not a subtle one either. But no one ventured to pick up her gage; certainly not Horace or Lionel, they were terrified. Not Minnie; she was very wary of such an adversary. Julie’s careless glance swept the sober little figure from head to foot. “Let’s see your doll’s house, Li,” she said. “It’s the smallest thing I’ve ever seen.” He got up, reluctantly. She really was a bit too--too obvious. He thought perhaps he’d speak to her, tactfully. And yet it was so good to see her, and her beauty and vividness, a breath from a vanished life. He couldn’t help a feeling of kinship with her, which was not loyal to Minnie. He saw so plainly how the house must look to her, and how Minnie appeared. Understood what she was thinking.