delight, she
was almost betrayed into telling him that she loved him dearly, and had
found life empty without him. But having had just time enough to
recover herself, she drew herself up as straight as a dart, and looked
at him as Kate may have looked at Petruchio during their first
unpleasant interview in which they made each other's acquaintance.

"All this time!" cried Rorie. "Do you know how long I have been in
Hampshire?"

"Haven't the least idea," retorted Vixen haughtily.

"Just half-an-hour--or, at least it is exactly half-an-hour since I was
deposited with all my goods and chattels at the Lyndhurst Road Station."

"You are only just home from Switzerland?"

"Within this hour!"

"And you have not even been to Briarwood?"

"My honoured mother still awaits my duteous greetings."

"And this is your twenty-first birthday, and you came here first of
all."

And, almost uninvited, the tawny head dropped on to his shoulder again,
and the sweet childish lips allowed themselves to be kissed.

"Rorie, how brown you have grown.'"

"Have I!"

The gray eyes were looking into the brown ones admiringly, and the
conversation was getting a trifle desultory.

Swift as a flash Violet recollected herself. It dawned upon her that it
was not quite the right thing for a young lady "rising sixteen" to let
herself be kissed so tamely. Besides, Rorie never used to do it. The
thing was a new development, a curious outcome of his Swiss tour.
Perhaps people did it in Switzerland, and Rorie had acquired the habit.

"How dare you do such a thing?" exclaimed Vixen, shaking herself free
from the traveller's encircling arm.

"I didn't think you minded," said Rorie innocently; "and when a fellow
comes home from a long journey he expects a warm welcome!"

"And I am glad to see you," cried Vixen, giving him both her hands with
a glorious frankness; "but you don't know how I have been hating you
lately."

"Why, Vixen?"

"For being always away. I thought you had forgotten us all--that you
did not care a jot for any of us."

"I had not forgotten any of you, and I did care--very much--for some of
you."

This, though vague, was consoling.

The brown became Roderick. Dark of visage always, he was now tanned to
a bronze as of one born under southern skies. Those deep gray eyes of
his looked black under their black lashes. His black hair was cut close
to his well-shaped head. An incipient moustache shaded his upper lip,
and gave