It’s a gift like a tenor voice. The thing is to know how to make the best use of it—” and he fell to musing on this newly discovered attribute. It was—what? Charm? Heaven forbid! The very word made his flesh creep with memories of weary picnics and wearier dinners where, with pink food in fluted papers, the discussion of “What is Charm?” had formed the staple diet. “I’d run a mile from a woman with charm; and so would most men,” Targatt thought with a retrospective shudder. And he tried, for the first time, to make a conscious inventory of Nadeja’s attributes.

            She was not beautiful; he was certain of that. He was not good at seeing people, really seeing them, even when they were before his eyes, much less at visualizing them in absence. When Nadeja was away all he could ever evoke of her was a pleasant blur. But he wasn’t such a blind bat as not to know when a woman was beautiful. Beauty, however, was made to look at, not to live with; he had never wanted to marry a beautiful woman. And Nadeja wasn’t clever, either; not in talk, that is. (And that, he mused, was certainly one of her qualities.) With regard to the other social gifts, so-called: cards, for instance? Well, he knew she and Katinka were not above fishing out an old pack and telling their fortunes, when they thought he wasn’t noticing; but anything as scientific as bridge frightened her, and she had the good sense not to try to learn. So much for society; and as for the home—well, she could hardly be called a good housekeeper, he supposed. But remembering his mother, who had been accounted a paragon in that line, he gave thanks for this deficiency of Nadeja’s also. Finally he said to himself: “I seem to like her for all the things she is not.” This was not satisfactory; but he could do no better. “Well, somehow, she fits into the cracks,” he concluded; and inadequate as this also sounded, he felt it might turn out to be a clue to the Kouradjines. Yes, they certainly fitted in; squeezing you a little, overlapping you a good deal, but never—and there was the point—sticking into you like the proverbial thorn, or crowding you uncomfortably, or for any reason making you wish they weren’t there.

            This fact, of which he had been dimly conscious from the first, arrested his attention now because he had a sudden glimpse of its business possibilities. Little Boris had only had to borrow a hundred dollars of him for the trip to Hollywood, and behold little Boris was already affianced to the world’s leading movie-star! In the light of this surprising event Targatt suddenly recalled that Katinka, not long before, had asked him if he wouldn’t give Dmitri, who had not been a success at the bank, a letter recommending him for some sort of employment in the office of a widowed millionaire who was the highest light on Targatt’s business horizon. Targatt had received the suggestion without enthusiasm. “Your sister’s crazy,” he said to Nadeja. “How can I recommend that fellow to a man like Bellamy? Has he ever had any business training?”

            “Well, we know Mr. Bellamy’s looking for a book-keeper, because he asked you if you knew of one,” said Nadeja.

            “Yes; but what are Dmitri’s qualifications? Does he know anything whatever about book-keeping?”

            “No; not yet. But he says perhaps he could buy a little book about it.”

            “Oh, Lord—” Targatt groaned.

            “Even so, you don’t think you could recommend him, darling?”

            “No; I couldn’t, I’m afraid.”

            Nadeja did not insist; she never insisted. “I’ve found out a new restaurant, where they make much better blinys. Shall I tell them all to meet us there tonight at half-past eight?” she suggested.

            Now, in the light of Boris’s news, Targatt began to think this conversation over. Dmitri was an irredeemable fool; but Katinka—what about giving the letter for old Bellamy to Katinka? Targatt didn’t see exactly how he could word it; but he had an idea that Nadeja would tell him. Those were the ways in which she was really clever. A few days later he asked: “Has Dmitri got a job yet?”

            She looked at him in surprise. “No; as you couldn’t recommend him he didn’t buy the book.”

            “Oh, damn the book… See here, Nadeja; supposing I were to give Katinka a letter for old Bellamy?”

            He had made the suggestion with some embarrassment, half expecting that he would have to explain. But not to Nadeja. “Oh, darling, you always think of the right thing,” she answered, kissing him; and as he had foreseen she told him just how to word the letter.

            “And I will lend her my silver fox to wear,” she added. Certainly the social education of the Kouradjines had been far more comprehensive than Targatt’s.

            Katinka went to see Mr. Bellamy, and when she returned she reported favourably on the visit. Nothing was as yet decided about Dmitri, as she had been obliged to confess that he had had no training as an accountant; but Mr. Bellamy had been very kind, and had invited her to come to his house some afternoon to see his pictures.

            From this visit also Katinka came back well-pleased, though she seemed not to have accomplished anything further with regard to Dmitri. She had, however, been invited by Mr.

            Bellamy to dine and go to a play; and a few weeks afterward she said to Targatt and Nadeja: “I think I will live with Mr.