Mended furniture has, however, a deprecating expression of its own, not to be concealed by any art. Dosia recognized the absence of it in these trim chairs that stood nattily on their slender curved legs, in the little shining tables which did not require to be hidden by a hanging cloth, and in the china and bric-à-brac placed boldly where they could be seen on all sides. She wondered a little at the low wicker arm-chair in which she was sitting, for they had wicker furnishings in the Balderville hotel, but the blue-skyed water-color sketches on the walls caught her fancy, and the vista of a blue-and-white dining-room, seen through half-closed reddish portières, was charming. For all the shine and polish and multiplicity of small ornaments in the tiny apartment, it seemed to lack a kind of comfort to which she was used, and of which she had caught a glimpse in the sitting-room as she passed it. She gave an exclamation of delight as her eyes fell on a stand in one corner of the room on which was a long glass filled with pink roses. “How beautiful these are! I haven’t seen any finer ones in Balderville, and you know we are famed for our roses there.” “Oh,” said Lois, “to think that you have been in the house for over an hour and I never told you about them! Justin’s not coming upset everything. They were sent to you this afternoon.” “Sent to _me_?” “Yes—by Mr. Sutton. Didn’t you say you met him with Justin on the boat?—a short, stout man with sandy hair.” “Yes, Justin introduced him, but he hardly spoke to me.” “That doesn’t make any difference, he sent them before he saw you at all. I told him you were coming, and these arrived this afternoon. You needn’t feel particularly flattered; he sends them to everybody.” “Sends them to everybody!” Dosia looked amazed. “Oh, yes; he’s rich, and devoted to girls. They laugh at him, but I notice that they are quite ready to accept his flowers and candy and tickets for the opera. I believe that he wants to get married; but he really is sensible and quite nice underneath it all.” “Oh!” said Dosia, indefinably revolted. “And—and is Mr. Barr like that, too?” “Who, Lawson? Oh, dear, no; he can’t even support himself, let alone sending presents.” “He said such queer things,” ventured Dosia, with a shy desire to talk about him. “I did not know what to make of it at first.” “Oh, nobody pays any attention to what Lawson says,” said Lois indifferently.