“Not a bit like it,” he cried. “Now, in the gold tiara and the spangled opera cloak,” he differentiated, “you look like a picture postal card! You got Lotta Faust’s blue skirt back to Levey’s. But not in the white goods!” He shook his head sadly, firmly. “You look, now, like you was made up for a May-day picnic in the Bronx, and they’d picked on you to be Queen of the May.” Mabel carried the much-admired opera cloak to Vera, and held it out, tempting her. “You’ll wear it, just to please me and Mannie, won’t you, dearie?” she begged. Vera retreated before it as though it held the germs of contagion. “I will not,” she rebelled. “I hate it! When I have that on, I feel--mean. I feel as mean as though I were picking pennies out of a blind man’s hat.” Mannie roared with delight. “Gee!” he shouted, “but that’s a hot one.” “Besides,” said Vera consciously, “I’m--I’m expecting some one.” The manner more than the words thrilled Mabel with the most joyful expectations. She exclaimed excitedly. “A gentleman friend, Vera?” she asked. That Vera shunned all young men had been to Mabel a source of wonder and of pride. Even when the young men were the friends of her husband and of herself, the preoccupied manner with which Vera received them did not provoke in Mabel any resentment. It rather increased her approbation. Although horrified at the recklessness of the girl, she had approved even when Vera rejected an offer of marriage from a wine agent. Secretly, for a proper alliance for her, Mabel read the society columns in search of eligible, rich young men. Finding that they invariably married eligible, rich young women, she had lately determined that Vera’s destiny must be an English duke. Still if, as she hoped, Vera had chosen for herself, Mabel felt assured that the man would prove worthy, and a good match. A good match meant one who owned not only a runabout, but a touring car. “It’s a man from home,” said Vera. “Home?” queried Mannie. “From up the State,” explained Vera, “from Geneva. It’s--Mr. Winthrop.” With an exclamation of alarm, Mannie started upright. “Winthrop!” he cried; then with a laugh of relief he sank back. “Gee! You give me a scare,” he cried. “I thought you meant the District Attorney.” Mabel laughed sympathetically. “I thought so too,” she admitted. “I do mean the District Attorney,” said the girl. “Vera!” cried Mabel. “Winthrop--coming here?” demanded Mannie. “I met him at Mr. Hallowell’s this morning,” said Vera. “Didn’t Paul tell you?”