I think my uncle Major Belwether chose you as his august mouthpiece for that little sermon on the dangers of heredity--the danger of being ignorant concerning what women of my race had done--before I came into the world they found so amusing." "I told you several things," returned Mrs.Ferrall composedly.

"Your uncle thought it best for you to know." "Yes.

The marriage vows sat lightly upon some of my ancestors, I gather.
In fact," she added coolly, "where the women of my race loved they usually found the way--rather unconventionally.

There was, if I understood you, enough of divorce, of general indiscretion and irregularity to seriously complicate any family tree and coat of arms I might care to claim--" "Sylvia!" The girl lifted her pretty bare shoulders.

"I'm sorry, but could I help it?
Very well; all I can do is to prove a decent exception.