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Behind the Arras

           Carter,lookingupdefensively.OfallhermenfriendsshebestlikedCowperwood.Hehadneveradvisedhertoevilwaysorusedherhouseasaconveniencetohimselfalone."Heneverdidanythingbuthelpmeout.HeadvisedmetogiveupmyhouseinLouisvilleandcomeEastanddevotemyselftolookingafteryouandRolfe.Heofferedtohelpmeuntilyoutwoshouldbeabletohelpyourselves,andsoIcame.Oh,ifIhadonlynotbeensofoolish—soafraidoflife!ButyourfatherandMr.Carterjustranthrougheverything."

           Sheheavedadeep,heartfeltsigh.

           "Thenwereallyhaven’tanythingatall,havewe,mother—propertyoranythingelse?"

           Mrs.Cartershookherhead,meaningno.

           "AndthemoneywehavebeenspendingisMr.Cowperwood’s?"

           "Yes."

           Berenicepausedandlookedoutthewindowoverthewidestretchofparkwhichitcommanded.Framedinitlikeapicturewereasmalllake,ahilloftrees,withaJapanesepagodaeffectintheforeground.OverthehillweretheyellowtoweringwallsofagreathotelinCentralParkWest.Inthestreetbelowcouldbeheardthejingleofstreet-cars.Onaroadintheparkcouldbeseenamovinglineofpleasurevehicles—societytakinganairinginthechillNovemberafternoon.

           "Poverty,ostracism,"shethought.Andshouldshemarryrich?Ofcourse,ifshecould.Andwhomshouldshemarry?TheLieutenant?Never

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