Paul laughed outright. "Haven't you ever noticed, my dear, that the people who wear ready-made serge are the ones who could really comfortably afford to wear calico wrappers? It goes right up and down the scale that way. Everybody is trying to sing a note above what he can." "I know it does--but does it _have_ to? Wouldn't it be better if everybody just--why doesn't somebody begin--" "It's the law of progress, of upward growth," pronounced Paul. Lydia was impressed by the pontifical sound of this, though she ventured faintly: "Well, but does progress always mean broadcloth and cut glass?" "_We_ have the wherewithal to cultivate our minds!" said Paul, laughing again. "Weren't the complete works of the American essayists among our wedding presents!" He referred to an old joke between them, at which Lydia laughed loyally, and the talk went on lightly until the meal was over. As they walked away from the table together Lydia said to herself, "Now--now--" but Paul began to laugh as he told an incident of Madeleine's light-hearted, high-handed tyranny over her elderly fiance, and it seemed impossible for Lydia to bring out her story of mean and ugly tragedy. As usual the evening was a lively one. Some acquaintances from the "younger married set" of Bellevue dropped in for a game of cards, Madeleine and "old Pete" Lowdor came out to talk over the plans for their new handsome house at the end of the street and at Paul's suggestion Lydia hastily got together a chafing-dish supper for the impromptu party which prolonged itself with much laughter and many friendly wranglings over trumps and "post-mortems" until after midnight. Paul was in the highest of gay spirits as he stood with his pretty wife on the porch, calling good-nights to his guests disappearing down the starlit driveway. He inhaled the odor of success sweet and strong in his nostrils. As they looked back into the house, they saw the faithful Ellen clearing away the soiled dishes, her large, white, disease-scarred face impassive over her immaculate and correct maid's dress. "Isn't she a treasure!" cried the master of the house. "To sit up to this hour!" He started, "What's that?"