interest as they went their way, in the city, yet not of it. Through its streets and its shops they walked with an air of seeing something a long way off. They mingled with young ladies and matrons at crowded shopping-places. But, standing by the pin, tape, and braid counter, they discussed in one breath the world-will of Schopenhauer, the spirituality of Pre-Raphaelitism, and the kind of velveteen to be used for facings. They stopped between courses in their luncheons to put down points in their notebooks. They talked Theosophy in the street cars. They argued of the ideal on muddy corners.
Reverence mingled with Helen's pity for them. Their ignoring of material comforts condemned her traditions. Their longing for the intangible roused her aspiration. But she could not reach them. All around her, they were yet remote.
Certain words of Anne Bradford filled her with vague misgiving.
