“Oh——” Miss Bart protested, drawing back from her penitent clasp; but Mrs. Fisher went on with her usual directness: “Look here, Lily, don’t let’s beat about the bush: half the trouble in life is caused by pretending there isn’t any. That’s not my way, and I can only say I’m thoroughly ashamed of myself for following the other women’s lead. But we’ll talk of that by and bye—tell me now where you’re staying and what your plans are. I don’t suppose you’re keeping house in there with Grace Stepney, eh?—and it struck me you might be rather at loose ends.” In Lily’s present mood there was no resisting the honest friendliness of this appeal, and she said with a smile: “I am at loose ends for the moment, but Gerty Farish is still in town, and she’s good enough to let me be with her whenever she can spare the time.” Mrs. Fisher made a slight grimace. “H’m—that’s a temperate joy. Oh, I know—Gerty’s a trump, and worth all the rest of us put together; but A LA LONGUE you’re used to a little higher seasoning, aren’t you, dear? And besides, I suppose she’ll be off herself before long—the first of August, you say? Well, look here, you can’t spend your summer in town; we’ll talk of that later too. But meanwhile, what do you say to putting a few things in a trunk and coming down with me to the Sam Gormers’ tonight?” And as Lily stared at the breathless suddenness of the suggestion, she continued with her easy laugh: “You don’t know them and they don’t know you; but that don’t make a rap of difference. They’ve taken the Van Alstyne place at Roslyn, and I’ve got CARTE BLANCHE to bring my friends down there—the more the merrier. They do things awfully well, and there’s to be rather a jolly party there this week——” she broke off, checked by an undefinable change in Miss Bart’s expression. “Oh, I don’t mean YOUR particular set, you know: rather a different crowd, but very good fun. The fact is, the Gormers have struck out on a line of their own: what they want is to have a good time, and to have it in their own way. They gave the other thing a few months’ trial, under my distinguished auspices, and they were really doing extremely well—getting on a good deal faster than the Brys, just because they didn’t care as much—but suddenly they decided that the whole business bored them, and that what they wanted was a crowd they could really feel at home with. Rather original of them, don’t you think so? Mattie Gormer HAS got aspirations still; women always have; but she’s awfully easy-going, and Sam won’t be bothered, and they both like to be the most important people in sight, so they’ve started a sort of continuous performance of their own, a kind of social Coney Island, where everybody is welcome who can make noise enough and doesn’t put on airs. I think it’s awfully good fun myself—some of the artistic set, you know, any pretty actress that’s going, and so on. This week, for instance, they have Audrey Anstell,