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Now Mrs. Dallas was secretly afraid of Etwald, as she had received hints from Dido, in whose truth she implicitly believed--that the doctor knew more about secret things than most people. She dreaded lest his visit should portend harm, and so, in some trepidation, she waited for him to speak. But Etwald, guessing her frame of mind, took his time and it was only when Isabella approached with some tea for her mother that he broke the silence. She said good-night absently, and Patricia, watching her hurry down the frosty street, found herself wondering at the subtle barrier that she could feel so keenly, while she yet tried to disbelieve. Next I signed the cheque for three of those wonders with my head so in the clouds I didn't know what I was doing, but I came to with a jolt when the prettiest girl began to get me into that black silk bag I had worn down to the West End. I must have shrunk the whole remaining pounds I had felt obliged to lose for Alfred and Ruth Clinton, from the horror I felt when I looked at myself. The girl was really sympathetic and said with a smile that was true kindness: "Shall I call a taxi for madame and have it take her to Klein's? They have wonderful gowns by Rene all ready to be fitted at short notice. Really, madame's figure is such that it commands a perfect costume now.".

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If Mrs. Dallas was a bore--and her friends said she was--the daughter was divine, and many young men came to The Wigwam to be spellbound by her dark beauty. More men than the three who had dined at "Ashantee" were in love with Isabella. He was tall, he was thin, with a dark, lean face, and fiery watchful dark eyes. For three years he had been wasting his talents in the neighboring town of Deanminster; when, if intellect were in question, he should have been shouldering his way above the crowd of mediocrities in London. The man was dispassionate, brilliant and persevering; he had in him the makings not only of a great physician, but of a great man; and he was wasting his gifts in a dull provincial town. He was unpopular in Deanminster, owing to the absence of what is termed "a good bedside manner," and the invalids of the cathedral city and Hurstleigh, for he had patients in both places, resented his brusque ways and avoidance of their scandal-mongering tea parties. Also he was a mystery; than which there can be no greater sin in provincial eyes. No one knew who Etwald was, or whence he came, or why he wasted his talents in the desert of Deanminster; and such secret past which he declined to yield up to the most persistent questioner, accentuated the distrust caused by his sombre looks and curt speeches. Provincial society is intolerant of originality. Patricia curled up cozily while Miss Jinny read the two Sunday chapters in a full, melodious voice, beginning with the ineffable words, "In my Father's house are many mansions." Patricia nodded. "You'll be in better shape to begin on the library design next week," she said briskly. "I'm not going to start my study till I feel just like it. Doesn't pay to push yourself too hard. We've had a glorious week, with the concerts and theater and the museums and all, and I've learned more than I should have at the school. Just living teaches you lots, if you'll learn, and I don't believe in turning up my nose at things just because they aren't in a roster.".