"It will be so romantic--a country dance in a lonely house on a hill.

What an adorable cup, dear Miss Heredith! I love Chinese egg-shell porcelain, but this is simply beyond anything! It's----" "Whatever induced Dolly Weyne to bury herself in the country ?" abruptly exclaimed a young woman with cropped hair and khaki uniform.

"She loathed the country before she was married." "Mrs.Weyne is a wife, and it is her duty to like her husband's home," said Miss Heredith a little primly.

She disapproved of the speaker, whose khaki uniform, close-cropped hair, crossed legs, and arms a-kimbo struck her as everything that was modern and unwomanly.
"Then what induced Teddy Weyne to bury himself alive in the wilds?
I'm sure it must be terrible living up there alone, with nothing but earwigs and owls for company." "Mr.Weyne is a writer," rejoined Miss Heredith.

"He needs seclusion." "My husband doesn't," said a little fair-haired woman.