Illustrated catalogue of the exhibition of Spanish old masters in support of National Gallery funds and for the benefit of the Sociedad de Amigos del Arte Espanyola, Oct. 1913 to Jan. 1914

Though fond of white calfskin knee-length boots, which she invariably wore on the Midlothian campus, she had tonight substituted trim three-inch-heeled black suede pumps and her gauziest copper-toned nylons which accentuated the alluring pale ivory sheen of her skin. Arnold Cantwell stood aside at the door of the recreation room to let her go ahead of him, his lips pursed, his eyes scanning her voluptuously ripe figure. There was a miniature bar at one end, with leather-padded stools; tables for pingpong and billiards, two armchairs, a backless, low, long black leather-upholstered couch, and the familiar table with the ivory chess pieces set out on both sides of the inlaid board. The walls of this attractive room were decorated with glass-covered, silver-framed Currier amp; Ives prints. Heather walked over to the side of the board on which the white pieces were arrayed, glanced mockingly at the architect, and proffered, "Maybe we ought to play for stakes, the way the American masters used to do at the Coney Island concessions back in the Thirties." "What did you have in mind?" Her eyebrows arched insolently. "I'll think of something-no, maybe I'd better not. I might shock you." "You know, Heather, I've the impression you think I'm old enough to be your father ...»