That was a room the whole width of the house and half its depth, second floor front, full of soft light reflected from the ceiling, dedicated to complete human comfort. Everything had been thought of. Trifles of convenience were everywhere at hand. There were flowers on the table, books in the bookcases, current magazines lying about, pillows on the rug in front of the fire place and an enormous divan in which six might lie at once. On the same floor was a music room; then a ball room. The chambers were next above, arranged in suites. This was mother’s, meaning Mrs. Galt; that was Gram’ma’s, that one Vera’s, that one Natalie’s, those others for company,--or they could rearrange them as they pleased. Every room was perfectly dressed, even to towels on the bath room racks and toilet accessories in the cabinets. “The help,” he said, “and some other things,” passing the next two floors without stopping. The top floor was his. One large room was equipped as an office is. His desk was a large mahogany table with six telephone instruments on it. Opening off to the right was his apartment. “And this,” he said, opening a door to the left, “is Coxey’s when he wants it ... two rooms and bath like mine.” On the roof, under glass, was a tennis court. The view of the city from there at night was apparitional. Galt led us to the front ostensibly that we might see it to better advantage, but for another reason really. “That’s Valentine’s house down there,” he said, “that roof. We are three stories higher and twenty feet wider.... You could almost spit on it.” Mrs. Galt shuddered. Well, that was all to see. “She’s built like a locomotive,” said Galt, trying here and there a door to show how perfectly it fitted. There was no higher word of praise. We went down by an automatic electric elevator and were again in that vaulted, formal space on the ground floor. Words would not come. Mrs. Galt stood gazing into the fire, overwhelmed, wondering perhaps how this would affect her campaign to propitiate Mrs. Valentine. Natalie sat on the stairway with her chin in her hands. Vera helped herself to some iced water. Gram’ma Galt sat far off in the corner on a stone bench. Galt surveyed them with incredulous disgust. This was a kind of situation for which he had no intuition at all. His emotions and theirs were diametrically different. For him the moment was one of realization. That which was realized had existed in his thoughts whole, just as it was, for nearly a year. For them it was a terrific shock, overturning the way of their lives, and women moreover do not make their adjustments to a new environment in the free, canine manner of men, but with a kind of feline diffidence. It is very rash to surprise them so without elaborate preparation.