Mrs. Pelham was the first to descend. She was offended at the informality but as curious as her daughter to see this heir of the Carterets, who had been the subject of much rumor and several newspaper paragraphs. She was a very tall woman, thin and austere, with iron-gray hair dressed high and flat, and wore a gray dress over corsets as rigid as herself. Even the gold-framed spectacles did not soften her expression. She was a member of the church most active in local politics and all reforms, and the president of a very important club. Gita felt like making a face but advanced and held out her hand in Millicent’s prettiest manner. “Mrs. Pelham? I am Gita Carteret and I do hope you won’t mind the informality of this call.” “Oh, not at all,” said Mrs. Pelham stiffly. “Won’t you sit down? It is very polite of you to call so soon. I hardly expected to see you for several weeks.” An ambiguous remark, but Gita replied sweetly: “I was feeling lonesome after two hours on the Boardwalk and had a sudden desire to meet old friends of my grandmother.” Mrs. Pelham looked as if about to thaw, then darted a suspicious glance at her visitor. “Hardly that. I used to meet Mrs. Carteret occasionally when we sat on the same charitable boards, and she was once very kind when I was ill. But I did not feel that I had known her well enough to attend the funeral. Of course I left cards.” Is this class-consciousness? thought Gita. Do self-respecting Americans really recognize county? “You were lucky not to feel you had to,” she replied warmly. “It was ghastly. Public funerals—and weddings—should be abolished; don’t you think so? Both are indecent.” “I certainly do not agree with you. I rank both among the _decencies_ of life.” She looked at Gita as if she approved of nothing about her, but it was a look to which Gita was inured and she merely smiled and crossed her knees, swinging a foot conspicuous in an Oxford bought in the boys’ department of a shoe-store. She broke a silence that threatened to induce hysteria, recalling the gossip of Topper, who knew the lineage and habits of every family from Egg Harbor to Cape May. “I hear you go in tremendously for good works. That must get away with a lot of time.” “My time is fully occupied and I certainly do my duty as I see it.” “Oh—ah—yes. I’ve heard that Atlantic City is particularly fortunate in its women citizens. . . .” And then she sprang into the arena. “I suppose you always intend to live here?” “Most certainly. I was born in Atlantic City—we once had our own house but it burned down—and I expect to die here. I hope you will renew the lease of this house when it expires—but of course you leave business details to Mr. Donald?” There was a hint of anxiety in her rasping voice. “Not altogether. I——You wouldn’t like to buy the house, would you?” “I should like nothing better, but unfortunately I am unable to afford it.” There was a gleam of real apprehension in her hard gray eyes as she stared at Gita.