On the street, from her elegant little car, she could see women who were walking glance at her with envy, just as she herself had done in her first year in the city.

The thought brought a humorous smile to her lips.

And looking at the constant stream of motors passing, she inquired, "How many of us are there, in this imposing procession, who haven't a single friend in town ?" How they all passed on.

How coolly indifferent, self-absorbed! Was there no entering wedge to their lives?
But her youth would rise with a sudden rush in her warm body, so smartly dressed, so tingling with ardent health, and glancing into the glass in her car and making a little face at herself, she would exclaim: "Oh, fiddlesticks! All this is going to have a nice fine happy ending! Nothing awful is to happen to me!" At one such time, as though interrupted, she leaned quickly and graciously forward, as she had seen women do in the Park, and bowed with a cordial little smile--to a vacant lot--and then turning back to the imagined friend at her side, she said sweetly, "Excuse me, dear.

What were you saying?
Why yes, we'd love to.