talk of building. Goodness knows I love my home as well as any woman — — ”

They looked at the Shoreham rooms on the afternoon of their anniversary. They were having the Crowd to dinner, downtown, that evening. Cora thought the Shoreham rooms beautiful, though she took care not to let the room-clerk know she thought so. Ray, always a silent, inarticulate man, was so wordless that Cora took him to task for it in a sibilant aside.

“Ray, for heaven’s, sake say something. You stand there! I don’t know what the man’ll think.”

“A hell of a lot I care what he thinks.” Ray was looking about the garish room — plush chairs, heavy carpets, brocade hangings, shining table-top, silly desk.