IN WHICH CONSTANCE AVAILS HERSELF OF WOMAN'S PRIVILEGE TO CHANGE HER MIND Polly Parsons burst into the boudoir of Constance Joy, every feather on her lavender hat aquiver with indignation.

"What do you think!" she demanded.

"Johnny Gamble's lost his million dollars!" Constance, nursing a pale-faced headache, had been reclining on the couch at the side of a bouquet of roses four feet across; but now she sat straight up and smiled, and the sparkle which had been absent for days came back into her eyes.
"No!" she exclaimed.

"Really, has he ?" Polly regarded her in amazement.

"You act as if you are glad of it," she said.
"I am," confessed Constance, and breaking off one of the big red roses she rose, surveyed herself in the glass, tried the effect of it against her dark hair and finally pinned it on her dressing-gown.
Polly plumped into a big rocking-chair to vent her indignation.
"I don't see anything to giggle at!" she declared.