“Come on,” she urged. “I'll telephone my sister Catherine. She's said to be very beautiful by people who ought to know.”

“Well, I'd like to, but — — ”

We went on, cutting back again over the Park toward the West Hundreds. At 158th Street the cab stopped at one slice in a long white cake of apartment houses. Throwing a regal homecoming glance around the neighborhood, Mrs. Wilson gathered up her dog and her other purchases and went haughtily in.

“I'm going to have the McKees come up,” she announced as we rose in the elevator. “And of course I got to call up my sister, too.”

The apartment was on the top floor — a small living room, a small