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It was true she had engaged a masseuse at eleven o'clock; the laundry had not been finished; certain persons had planned to shampoo heads, and Mme. Fontaine had asked permission to call in the afternoon. "All of which things must be postponed and overlooked," thought Miss Campbell. Mr. Campbell had hired a villa for their short stay. Komatsu was to go along as cook and to carry excess luggage.

Undine! You look's if you'd been setting up all night with a remains!" the masseuse exclaimed in her round rich tones. Undine, without answering, caught up the pearls and thrust them into Mrs. Heeny's hands. "Good land alive!" The masseuse dropped into a chair and let the twist slip through her fat flexible fingers.

She knew that when she got up she must send back the pearls; but there was no longer any satisfaction in the thought, and she lay listlessly wondering how she could best transmit them to Van Degen. As she lay there she heard Mrs. Heeny's voice in the passage. Hitherto she had avoided the masseuse, as she did every one else associated with her past. Mrs.

Folly let go a great sigh, sprang from the table, and stood erect, young and alive in every fiber, in the center of the blue and white bath-rug. The film of cold cream was quite gone. But the masseuse was not yet content. She caught up a soft, scented towel and passed it deftly over arms, body, and legs, not forgetting the last little toe. When she finished, she was on her knees.

Belloc. "You mustn't weaken me," cried Mildred. "You mustn't encourage me to be a coward and to shirk. That's why I'm coming here." "I understand," said Mrs. Belloc. "I've got the New England streak of hardness in me, though I believe that masseuse has almost ironed it out of my face. Do I look like a New England schoolmarm?" Mildred could truthfully answer that there wasn't a trace of it.

Undine asked eagerly; while Mrs. Spragg, impressed, but anxious for facts, pursued: "Does she reside on Fifth Avenue?" "No, she has a little house in Thirty-eighth Street, down beyond Park Avenue." The ladies' faces drooped again, and the masseuse went on promptly: "But they're glad enough to have her in the big houses! Why, yes, I know her," she said, addressing herself to Undine.

"But I'll go up to the Farm with you for a day or two.... There's the masseuse you'll find some cigarettes in the drawer don't forget we dine early."... When they reached the Farm the next afternoon, little Marian met them in the hall, dressed like a white doll. "How do you do, Mamma?" she said very prettily. "I am so glad to see you." And she held up her face to be kissed.

But as soon as she was well she decided to come to England and learn to be a masseuse. I suppose she did not want to stop in Australia, where she was known. How attractive courage is! And where shall we find an example of courage equal to that of this blind woman coming to England to learn to be a masseuse?

Whitney posed, not without success, as an intellectual woman who despised the frivolities of a fashionable existence this in face of the obvious fact that she led a fashionable existence, or, rather, it led her, from the moment her masseuse awakened her in the morning until her maid undressed her at night.

So education, modification, must begin afresh vit' each generation and continue forefer. But t'is bacillus does not add ornament to t'e outside. It is not like t'e masseuse, vit' her unguents and kneading. It changes all t'e nature. It is like compressing a million years of education by natural selection into von lifetime. T'at is my t'eory. I do not know it is not yet tried but how ot'ervise?