Fennellcourt is one of the show-places of the Wheatley Hills section.  The house itself is a pretentious structure of brick and terra-cotta, crowning a hill.  A formal and a sunken garden—­the latter with a pergola and a Temple of Venus—­grassy terraces, rows and clumps of ornamental trees and dwarfed shrubs, dazzling patches of flowers and empty green lawns, evidence the skill of a highly paid landscape-artist; while stables, greenhouses, a natatorium, tennis and squash courts in the background, testify to the expensive habits of the owners.  The gardens are a feature of the estate; a fortune is represented in the stone pools, the massive urns, the statuary, and the potted plants.  Spotless, brilliant-hued tiled walks lead between riotous beds ablaze with every color, and the main driveway swings to the crest of a ridge that overlooks this charming prospect.

Bert Hayman drove the Whartons out from the city, and Lorelei’s first glimpse of Fennellcourt was such that she forgot her vague dislike of Hayman himself.  Bert, who had met her and Bob for luncheon, had turned out to be, instead of a polished man of the world, a glib youth with an artificial laugh and a pair of sober, heavy-lidded eyes.  Lorelei’s shyness at meeting him had quickly disappeared when she found that he knew more theatrical people than she and that he was quite unable to talk interestingly about anything except choruses and coryphees.  Of the former he was a merciless critic, of the latter he was an enthusiastic supporter.  That he possessed a keen appreciation of feminine beauty he showed by surrendering unconditionally to Lorelei’s charms.  She might have been flattered had he not pressed his attentions over-boldly.  As it was, seeing that Bob was pleased at the tribute to his wife’s loveliness rather than offended at his friend’s effrontery, she did her best to smother her resentment.

As Hayman’s car rolled up the driveway and the beauties of Fennellcourt displayed themselves Lorelei found her heart throbbing violently.  Was not this the beginning of a glorious adventure?  Was not life unfolding at last?  Was she not upon the threshold of a new world?  The flutter in her breast was answer.

Bert led the way through an impressive hall that bisected the building, then out upon a stately balustraded stone terrace, where, in the grateful shade of gaudy awnings, a dozen people were chatting at tea-tables.

Mrs. Fennell, the hostess, a plain-faced, dumpy young matron, welcomed the new-comers, then made Lorelei known.  As for Bob, he needed no introductions; a noisy outburst greeted him, and Lorelei’s heart warmed at the welcome.  There were a few embarrassing moments when she felt critical eyes measuring her, but her first instinctive appraisal of the other women made her easy.  It needed no more than a modest estimate of her own attractions to tell her that she was the smartest person in this smart assembly; the swift, startled admiration of the men proved it beyond question.