nopolized by the cultured classes, but should be shared with common people."
"That isn't precisely an art theory, is it?"
"It is the new art," answered Helen with sudden dignity, "the art that is no longer selfish, but that recognizes the claims of human brotherhood."
Decidedly the child was interesting. That little air of self-importance was charming, taken in connection with the rounded outlines of her face. Anne watched her hostess unobserved. Those gray eyes never seemed to see, yet nothing escaped them.
"She is just a bewitching baby," said the caller to herself, "masquerading in the manner of a woman of the world."
"Mr. Stanton always was an enthusiast," she remarked. "He has not changed, unless he has found an enthusiasm that lasts."
"Oh, Miss Bradford!" cried Helen. "Don't!"
A look of swift intelligence flashed into
