“That ridiculous family, so reserved and exclusive, they bore me! Well, not even being the family skeleton, I can’t say, but I fancy they know little. Now you take such a conceited, haughty person as Ernestine Christian or that stupid Caleb or Collin with his childish, impossible manners or that queer little wisp—Polly something—” “But you forget I am the baby of the family,” Thurley reminded. “A thousand pardons. My dear, I did not mean to offend. Of course I have my own circle, too. I am welcome in the best homes in France and England and I am always being taken for a marquise. I have my own theories about art and quite as much of a clientele as these fossils you have been bundled into without a warning. Don’t let them monopolize you with their nunnish, strange ideas—so utterly loveless—” “But I have promised never to marry,” Thurley interrupted. Lissa laughed. “Artists seldom have the hen spirit! For myself, I am always more interested in a second wedding than a first, and if the first is only to tell you what to avoid in the second, why have the first?” “But—” began Thurley rather helplessly. “For a second wedding I always see myself in a gown of gold brocade and a blond veil, both guiltless of trimming.” Lissa’s eyes strayed toward a photograph of Mark which stood on a nearby gilt table. “But—it isn’t right, you know, to—” Thurley was naught but a huge gaucherie. Lissa threw back her head to laugh, her plump white chin quivering after the soft sound ceased. Absinthe brought about freedom of speech—and liberty for all! “A fig for man-made laws! Don’t you know laws are made for the mass? Are you one of them? You know you are not or you would not have a fairybook life, coming to New York to be trained by Bliss Hobart! You may not know it as well as I, but I tell you this much—I would not ask you to dinner if you were merely one of the mass. Count me snobbish, if you like, you’ll be the same. None of us have time for any one who does not make it worth our while. I was careful to find out about you before I wrote you the note—and when you are very famous, perhaps you’ll write a ‘recommend’ card for me or let me polish off a song or two; even Bliss admits I can coach!” She went to a table to find an album, beckoning to Thurley to join her. “See—here and here—and this one—aren’t they as famous as your family? Look at this photo and that autograph, well, what did I tell you? Don’t become lop-sided, Thurley, or change into a crabbed spinster. Live and let love come to you—you are a genius, a super-creature—you have the right to love as you please!” “You do believe so?” Thurley fairly whispered the words. She fancied she had so stolidly locked away love from her wild-rose heart!