Traces of lost beauty flashed in her rare smiles.

When Frank Maynard had failed in business she had shrouded her soul in bitterness; and she saw the slow cruel years whiten his head and bend his shoulders with the cold eye of a woman who had no forgiveness for failure.

After Mr.Maynard's reverse, all that kept the pair together were the son Blair, and the sweet, fair-haired, delicate Margaret, a girl of eighteen, whom the father loved, and for whom the mother had large ambitions.

They still managed, in ways mysterious to the curious, to keep their fine residence in the River Park suburb of Middleville.
On this April afternoon the tea was neglected in the cups, and there was nothing of the usual mild gossip.

The discussion involved Daren Lane, and when two of those social arbiters settled back in their chairs the open sesame of Middleville's select affairs had been denied to him.
"Why did he do it ?" asked Mrs.Kingsley.
"He must have been under the influence of liquor," replied Mrs.
Maynard, who had her own reasons for being relieved at the disgrace of Daren Lane.
"No, Jane, you're wrong," spoke up Mrs.Wrapp, who, whatever else she might be, was blunt and fair-minded.