not then what they have since become. But the weather
was dry and the voyage to Westchester accomplished successfully. It was
half-past three when they drove up the avenue and deposited Mrs. Kame
and Cecil Grainger at the long front of the Faunce house: and Brent,
who had been driving, relinquished the wheel to the chauffeur and joined
Honora in the tonneau. The day was perfect, the woods still heavy with
summer foliage, and the only signs of autumn were the hay mounds and the
yellowing cornstalks stacked amidst the stubble of the fields.

Brent sat silently watching her, for she had raised her veil in saying
good-by to Mrs. Kame, and--as the chauffeur was proceeding slowly--had
not lowered it. Suddenly she turned and looked him full in the face.

"What kind of woman do you think I am?" she demanded.

"That's rather a big order, isn't it?" he said.

"I'm perfectly serious," continued Honora, slowly.

"I'd really like to know."

"Before I begin on the somewhat lengthy list of your qualities," he
replied, smiling, "may I ask why you'd like to know?"

"Yes," she said quickly. "I'd like to know because I think you've
misjudged me. I was really more angry than you have any idea of at the
manner in which you talked to Howard. And did you seriously suppose that
I was in earnest when we spoke about your assistance in persuading him
to take the house?"

He laughed.

"You are either the cleverest woman in the world," he declared, "or else
you oughtn't to be out without a guardian. And no judge in possession of
his five senses would appoint your husband."

Indignant as she was, she could not resist smiling. There was something
in the way Brent made such remarks that fascinated her.

"I shouldn't call you precisely eligible, either," she retorted.

He laughed again. But his eyes made her vaguely uneasy.

"Are these harsh words the reward for my charity? he asked.

"I'm by no means sure it's charity," she said. "That's what is troubling
me. And you have no right to say such things about my husband."

"How was I to know you were sensitive on the subject? he replied.

"I wonder what it would be like to be so utterly cynical as you," she
said.

"Do you mean to say you don't want the house?"

"I don't want it under those conditions," she answered with spirit. "I
didn't expect to be taken literally. And you've always insisted," she
added, "in ascribing to me motives that--that never occurred to me.
You make the mista