The room was very still. The maid, who had been arrested in the serving of the dinner by a gesture from Helen, furtively made the sign of the cross. The candle flames bent to some imperceptible stirring of the quiet air. Bruce experienced a sense of vastness, of the immeasurable horizons of Millicent’s God and a world through which the Beautiful One wandered still, symbolizing the ineffable word of His gospel that was not for one people, or one sect, not to be bound up into one creed, but written into the hearts of all men as their guide to happiness. It seemed to him that the girl’s words were part of some rite of purification that had cleansed and blessed the world. “I hadn’t thought of it in quite that way,” said Bruce thoughtfully. Helen was a wise woman and knew the perils of anticlimax. She turned and nodded to the maid. “Please forgive me! I’ve been holding back the dinner!” Millicent exclaimed. “You must always stop me when I begin riding the clouds. Bruce, are you seeing Dale Freeman these days? Of course you are! Helen, we must study Dale more closely. She knows how to bring Bruce running!” “I cheerfully yield to Dale in everything,” said Helen. “I must watch the time. They promise an unusually good show tonight--three one-act pieces and one of them by George Whitford; he and Connie are to act in it.” “Connie ought to be a star,” Millicent remarked, “she gives a lot of time to theatricals.” “There’s just a question whether Connie and George Whitford are not--well, getting up theatricals does make for intimacy!” said Helen. “I wish George had less money! An idle man--particularly a fascinating devil like George--is a dangerous playmate for a woman like Connie!” “Oh, but Connie’s a dear!” exclaimed Millicent defensively. “Her position isn’t easy. A lot of the criticism you hear of her is unjust.” “A lot of the criticism you hear of everybody is unjust,” Bruce ventured. “Oh, we have a few people here who pass for respectable but start all the malicious gossip in town,” Helen observed. “They’re not all women, either! I suspect Mort Walters of spreading the story that Connie and George are having a big affair, and that Mr. Mills gave Connie a good combing about it before he went abroad!” “Ridiculous!” murmured Millicent. “Of course,” Helen went on. “We all know why Leila’s father dragged her away. But Connie ought really to have a care. It’s too bad Shep isn’t big enough to give Walters a thrashing. The trouble with Walters is that he tried to start a little affair with Connie himself and she turned him down cold. Pardon me, are we gossiping?” “Of course not!” laughed Millicent. “Just whetting our appetites for anything new that offers at the club,” said Bruce. “I’m glad I’m a new man in town; I can listen to all the scandal without being obliged to take sides.” “Millie! You hate gossip,” said Helen, “so please talk about the saints so I won’t have a chance to chatter about the sinners.”