Page:Keeping the Peace.pdf/210

 She leaned over until her cheek was close to his. "You are a charming boy," she said.

Her cheek touched his. It must have been by accident. He was sure of that. She laughed and straightened herself.

"Father will be so pleased," she said.

He was. He raved about the portrait. He was the luckiest man in the world. His wife was the most beautiful creature in the world, and his young friend had been able to immortalize her on canvas.

Beaulieu and Madame Beaulieu ought to have been two of the happiest people in the world. And Beaulieu was one. Why Madame Beaulieu could not manage to be happy was one of those little mysteries of female psychology. On the credit side of life (1) she had an amiable, loving and talented husband, a little too fat perhaps, but not too old; (2) she had a house and grounds so charming and coquettish that only much money and several hundred years of time could have duplicated them; (3) she had a charming little apartment in Paris; (4) she was allowed to be extravagant without any complaint; (5) she was pretty and popular; (6) she was really very fond of Beaulieu.

Now what was lacking? What didn't she have that she needed to make her happy? Undoubtedly