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                                    THE WORKS OF
                                MARY ROBERTS RINEHART

                                     AFFINITIES
                                 AND OTHER STORIES


    THE REVIEW OF REVIEWS CORP.
    _Publishers_              NEW YORK

    PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY.

    _Copyright, 1920,
    By George H. Doran Company_

    _Copyright, 1909, 1913, 1914, 1915, by the Curtis Publishing
    Company_

    _Printed in the United States of America_




CONTENTS


        I AFFINITIES                                  9

       II THE FAMILY FRIEND                          55

      III CLARA'S LITTLE ESCAPADE                   103

       IV THE BORROWED HOUSE                        161

        V SAUCE FOR THE GANDER                      237




AFFINITIES


I

Somebody ought to know the truth about the Devil's Island affair and I
am going to tell it. The truth is generally either better or worse than
the stories that get about. In this case it is somewhat better, though I
am not proud of it.

It started with a discussion about married women having men friends. I
said I thought it was a positive duty--it kept them up to the mark with
their clothes and gave a sort of snap to things, without doing any harm.
There were six of us on the terrace at the Country Club at the time and
we all felt the same way--that it was fun to have somebody that
everybody expected to put by one at dinners, and to sit out dances with
and like the way one did one's hair, and to say nice things.

"And to slip out on the links for a moonlight chat with you," said
Annette, who is rather given to those little pastimes, the most
harmless in the world.

We were all awfully bored that Sunday afternoon. Most of the men were
golfing; and when you meet the same people all the time--day after day,
dinner after dinner, dance after dance--anything new is welcome. Really
the only variety we had was a new drink now and then. Some one would
come home from his vacation with a brand-new idea in beverages and order
one all round, and it was a real sensation.

That was all we had had all summer for excitement, except the time
Willie Anderson kissed Sybilla--she was his wife--on a wager. They had
been rather cool to each other for a month or so.

We would sit on the terrace and the conversation would be about like
this:

"There's the Jacksons' car."

"Why on earth does Ida Jackson wear green?"

"Hello, Ida! When d'you get back?"

"Yesterday. Bully time!"

Just in time to save us from utter boredom somebody would yawn and
remark:

"Here comes the Henderson car."

"Jane Henderson's put on weight. She's as big as a house! Hello, Jane!"

"Hello, everybody! My goodness! Why did I come back? Isn't it hot?"

More excitement for a minute and then more yawns. It was Ferd Jackson
who suggested the affinity party. He had heard about what I had said on
the terrace, and he came to me while Day was playing on the links. Day
is my husband.

"Had a nice afternoon?" he asked.

"Only fair. Day's been underfoot most of the time. Why?"

"How'd you like a picnic?"

"I would not!" I said decisively. "I hate cold food and motoring in a
procession until you choke with dust--and Day getting jealous and
disagreeable and wanting to get home early."

"Poor little girl!" said Ferd, and patted my hand in a friendly way.

Ferd was a good