ntryside fairly rang with it a year ago. You
might even have read it in the papers, only you wouldn't remember. A
girl book agent killed herself in Anne's house here because Anne
wouldn't buy her book. Did you ever hear of anything so absurd as Anne's
thinking it was her fault? Of course the girl was insane, and Anne had
absolutely nothing to do with it. And then Anne took the girl's book and
went off to sell it herself--and find out, she said, how such things
could happen. I don't know whether she found out." Miss Stockton laughed
very charmingly. "All I know is we're tremendously thankful to have her
back. Nothing's the same with her away. We don't know if she'll stay,
though. Nobody can tell about Anne, ever."

"Is this your home, too?" King managed to ask. His brain was whirling
with the shock of this astonishing revelation. He wanted to get off by
himself and think about it.

"Oh, no, indeed, no such luck. We live across the lake in a much less
beautiful place, only of course we're here a great deal when Anne's
home. My mother would be a mother to Anne if Anne would let her, but
she's the most independent creature--prefers to live here with just
Timmy and old Campbell, the butler who's been with the family since
time began. Timmy's more than a housekeeper, of course. Anne's made
almost a real chaperon out of her, and she is very dignified and nice."

King would have had the entire family history, he was sure, if a
diversion had not occurred in the nature of a general move to show the
guests to their rooms, with the appearance of servants, and the removal
of luggage. In his room presently, therefore, King had a chance to get
his thoughts together. One thing was becoming momentarily clear to him:
his being here was with Anne's permission--and she was willing to see
him; she had kept her promise. As for all the rest, he didn't care much.
And when he thought of the moment during which his mother had looked so
kindly into Anne's eyes, not recognizing her, he laughed aloud. Let Mrs.
King retreat from that position now if she wanted to. As for himself, he
was not at all sure that he cared a straw to have it thus so clearly
proved that Anne was what she had seemed to be. Had he not known it all
along? His heart sang with the thought that he had been ready to marry
her, no matter what her position in the world.

And now he wondered how many hours it would be before he should have his
chance to see her alone, if for but f