I'm twenty-two to-morrow, Niti, and my grandfather, who is just about the best grandfather a girl ever had, cabled across to the Napier people, and they've sent round the dandiest six-cylinder, thirty-horse landaulette that you ever saw, even in Central Park, and a driver to match--only I shan't have much use for him, except to look after the automobile.

I'll run you round in her after tea, and you can reintroduce me to the stores--I mean shops; I forgot we were in London." Mrs van Huysman, as usual, took a back seat while her daughter dispensed tea, and did most of the talking.

She was a lady of moderate proportions, and, unlike a good many American women, she had kept her good looks until very close on fifty.

She was full of shrewd common sense, but she had been born in a different generation and in a different grade of life, and therefore her attire inclined rather to magnificence than to elegance, in spite of her daughter's restraining hand and frankly expressed counsel.

She had a profound respect for her husband's attainments without in the least understanding them, and she very naturally held an unshakable belief that no quite ordinary woman, as she called herself, had ever been miraculously blessed with such a daughter as she had.
Nitocris was just beginning her second cup of tea when the door opened and her father's foeman in the arena of Science came in.