She set these articles on the table. "All the principal dishes are of agateware," she said, in answer to a question of Janet’s. "I’ve got four of everything necessary—four cups, four saucers, four glasses, four knives, four spoons, and so on. But don’t imagine that we have wrapping paper for a table cloth every day. Dear, no! That’s only for guests of honor and on Sundays. On week days we use newspapers." "That’s a novel way of taking one’s newspaper with one’s meal." "Oh, it’s old news. I always use the newspaper of a week ago. And it’s curious how often I run across some interesting bit of politics or scandal that escaped me a week before. Sometimes, while devouring a roll, I catch myself in the midst of a slobbery article by Hutchins Burley in the _Evening Chronicle_. The wretch is running a series of articles called: ’The Soul of Woman under Freedom.’" She gave Janet a circumstantial report of the encounter with Burley during the night. Janet followed this narrative with sympathetic interest, and wished that she and Claude had arrived in time to prevent the occurrence. "But then your knight-errant would have missed his opportunity," she said. "Think of the loss! By the way, I met him this morning, Araminta." "In ambush at the door?" "No, in the hallway downstairs. I had gone out for some cream. On my way back I ran right into his arms." "With what result?" "Very little. He exhausted his eloquence in stammers and deaf mute lingo. And when I thanked him again for last night’s service, he promptly took to his heels. It was cruel." "The course of true love always is, Cornelia." Cornelia, pleased at the implied assumption that she had inspired a romance, dwelt with gusto on the hero’s exploit. For the fiftieth time she described the skill and celerity with which "the physical culture expert" had propelled Burley from the apartment. "At the Outlaws’ Ball, Mr. Burley called Claude a diamond smuggler," said Janet, by way of changing the subject. "What did he mean? Do people accuse the Fontaines of smuggling?" "I never heard of such a thing," replied Cornelia. "Merchant princes like the Fontaines would hardly stoop to that. Besides, it wouldn’t pay them. Did Claude notice?" "Yes, and he seemed to mind it very much. His whole appearance changed as if he had been stung into sudden fury. But he controlled himself bravely." "What else could he do with the belle of the ball at his side? He’s always a man of the world—when in the world." "But not in private?" asked Janet, anxious to get to the bottom of this veiled aspersion. Cornelia’s reply was evasive. "A fine summer’s day will often end in a burst of terrifying thunder and lightning," she said. "Lothario has plenty of good looks and plenty of temper. A man who is accustomed to find people submitting to his will, easily gets indignant when he meets with opposition." She sighed as if she could tell much more about Claude Fontaine if she chose.