"You must not be. It may be your battle-ground. I don't say it will; but it may be, and it behooves you to look after your defences." He glowered at the painted face a moment, then: "You may know that the Chameleon was Julie's own choice for sister-in-law. Yes? It's a fact worth thinking over. Good-by, Jean, and good luck! I haven't been agreeable, but I've spoken as a friend. You feel that, I hope?" "Yes," she answered unsteadily; "and thank you." MacGregor winced as her voice broke. "Buck up, buck up!" he charged. "You'll win out, sure!" She brooded over his words till Atwood's return, but without seeing her way, and a restless night suggested only courses too fantastic for the light of day. She could not repeat MacGregor's warnings to Craig, nor could she voice them as her own; while to attack Julie openly seemed maddest of all. She could only drift and bide a time to assert herself with dignity. Such a chance seemed to offer at luncheon when Mrs. Van Ostade asked Craig for suggestions regarding the decoration of the small room off the main studio. "It has never been done up, you know," she continued. "The last tenant did not occupy it at all. We shall need it, however, and I think it should be put in order at once. I'll use my own discretion, if you don't want to be bothered." "But that is Jean's affair," he said. Julie's eyebrows arched. "Really!" "She and I settled it in the beginning that she should have that room for her work." His sister drew her knife through an inoffensive chop with bloodthirsty vehemence. "Indeed!" she returned. "I will look after its decoration," put in Jean, quietly. Mrs. Van Ostade's dusky skin shadowed with the dull red which marked her infrequent flush. "It must be in harmony with the other rooms," she said sharply. "At times it will be necessary to throw everything open." "Of course." "And it should be done immediately. In fact, Mr. Satterlee promised to look in at the studio about it at five o'clock to-day." Jean was staggered, but she could not hesitate. "I will meet Mr. Satterlee," she answered. Julie's thin lips parted in a travesty of a smile. "You are sure it would be agreeable?" she asked. Atwood lifted his eyes at her tone. "Agreeable, Julie?" he said. "Why do you give the word that twist? Why shouldn't it be agreeable?" Jean felt like an animal in a trap, but she faced Mrs. Van Ostade with head erect and unflinching eyes. "Yes; why?" she demanded. Julie seemed to weigh a reply which prudent second thought bade her check. "How tragic you two have suddenly become," she drawled. "Isn't it possible that the exacting Richter may have a prior claim? I am only too happy that Jean can find time to revisit the studio--and meet Mr. Satterlee. I hope, Craig, you will be present yourself?" Atwood looked frankly distressed over the rancorous turn the discussion had taken.