she was, and murmured pretty cooing phrases, kissing and cuddling him to contented laughter.

Betty Towers had procured clothing for her — a modest supply — using her own good taste, and not disguising Cassandra’s natural grace and dignity by a too-close adherence to the prevailing mode. There were a blue travelling gown and jacket, and a toque of the same color with a white wing; a soft clinging black silk, made with girlish simplicity which admirably became her, and a wide, flexible brimmed hat with a single heavy plume taken from Betty’s own hat of the last winter. Cassandra stood a long moment before the two gowns. She desired to don the silk, but Betty had told her always to wear the blue in the morning, so at last she obeyed her kind adviser.