Her gloves and shoes were pungent bits of romance, her hat a dream of graceful lines.

At the sight of her, Aileen, who was still in the hall and had opened the door herself, fairly burned to seize her by the throat and strike her; but she restrained herself sufficiently to say, "Come in." She still had sense enough and self-possession enough to conceal her wrath and to close the door.

Beside his wife Harold was standing, offensively smug and inefficient in the fashionable frock-coat and silk hat of the time, a restraining influence as yet.

He was bowing and smiling: "Oh." This sound was neither an "oh" nor an "ah," but a kind of Danish inflected "awe," which was usually not unpleasing to hear.

"How are you, once more, Meeses Cowperwood?
It eez sudge a pleasure to see you again--awe." "Won't you two just go in the reception-room a moment," said Aileen, almost hoarsely.